'0%,- 



Experieiice. of Llncle 
ToTn Jones 
\\l\io was fbnrtv yea-TS a S(c\.ve.. 




Glass E A 4 d. 
Book -> >.v "/ - 



EXPERIENCE 



AND PERSONAL NARRATIVE OF 



UNCP^ "' 




WHO WAS FOR FORTY YEARS 



A SLAVE. 



ALSO 

THE SURPRISING ADVENTURES 

OF 

.WILD TOM, ■ 

OF THE 

ISLAND RETREAT, 

A FUGITIVE NEGRO FROM SOUTH CAROLINA. 



PUBLISHED BY GEORGE C. HOL BROOK. 
PUBLISHER & BOOKSEIiLER, 

12S Nassau Street, New York 

1854. 



^-J^^slt -■^^^- 








INTRODUCTION. 

A suffering brother would affectionately present this simple 
story of deep p'ersonal wrongs to the earnest friends of the 
Slave. He asks you to buy and read it, for, in so doing, you 
will help one who needs your sympathy and aid, and will re- 
ceive, in the perusal of this simple narrative, a more fervent 
conviction of the necessity and blessedn'ess of toiling for the 
desolate members of the one great brotherhood who now suffer 
and die, ignorant and despairing, in the vast prison land of the 
South. '-'Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, 
do ye also unto them." - 

THE AUTHOR. 



EXPEmENCE OF UNCLE TOM. 



1 WAS born a slave. My recollections of early life are associated 
with povertv, suffering and shame. I was made to feelni «»y boy- 
hood's first ■'experience, that I was inferior and degraded, and that i 
must pass through life in a dependent and suffering condition, ihe 
experience of forty-three years, which were passed by me in slavery, 
was one of dark fears and darker realities. John Hawes was my 
first" master. He lived in Hanover County, IN. C, between tlie 
Black and South Rivers, and was the owner of a large plantation cal- 
led Hawes' Plantation. He had over fifty slaves. I remained with 
my parents nine years. They were both slaves, owned by John 
Havves. They had six children, Richard, Alexander, C harles, ba- 
rah, myself, and John. I remember well that dear old cabin,_witn 
its clav floor and mud chimney, in which, for nine years, I enjoyed 
the presence and love of my wretched parents. . , . , 

Father and mother tried to make it a happy place for their dear 
children. Tliey worked late into the night many and many a time 
to get a little simple furniture for their home and the home ol their 
children ; and they spent many hours of wilhng toil to stop up the 
chinks between the logs of their poor hut, that ihey and their chil- 
dren miaht be protected from the storm and the cold. 1 can testily, 
from mv own painful experience, to the deep and fond afiection 
which the slave cherishes in his heart for his home and its deai-ones. 
We have no other tie to link us to ihe human family, but our fervent 
love for those who are iinth us and of us in relations of sympathy 
and devotedness, in wrongs and wretchedness. My dear parents 
were conscious of the desperate and incurable woe of their position 
and destiny ; and of the lot of inevitable suffering in store ior then- 
beloved children. They talked about our coming misery, and they 
lifted up their voices and wept aloud, asthey spoke of our being torn 
from them and sold off to the dreaded slave trader, perhaps never 
to see them or hear from them a word of fond love. I am a lather, 
and I have had the same feelings of unspeakable anguish, as 1 have 
looked upon my precious babes, and have thought of tlie ignorance, 
degradation and 'woe which they must endure as slaves, ihe great 



8 EXPERIENCE OF 

» 

God, who kiioweth all the secrets of the earth, and He only, know 
the bitter sorrow I now feel when I think of tny four dear childret 
who are slaves, torn from me and consigned to hopeless servitude by 
the iron hand of ruthlesss wrong. I love those children with all a fa- 
ther's fondness. 

Mr.. Hawes was' a very severe and cruel master. He kept no 
overseer, but managed his own slaves v^ith the help of Enoch, his- 
oldest son. To the men he gave one pair of shoes, one blanket, one 
'hat, and five yards of coarse, home-spun cotton. To the womem a 
corresponding outfit, and enough to make one frock for each of the 
children. The slaves were obliged to make up their own clothes, 
after the severe labor of the plantation had been performed. Any 
other clothing, beyond this yearly supply, which they miglit need, the 
slaves were compelled to get by extra work, or do without. 

The supply of food given out to slaves, was one peck of corn a 
week, or some equivalent, and nothing besides. They must grind 
their own corn, after the work of the day was performed, at a mill 
which stood on the jjlantatation. We had to eat our coarse bread 
without meat, or butter, or milk. Severe labor alone gave us an ap- 
petite for our scanty and unpalatable fare. Many of the slaves were 
so hungry after their excessive toil, that they were compelled to steal 
food in addition to this allowance. 

During the planting and harvest season, we had to work early and 
late. The men and women were called at three o'clock in the morn- 
ing, and were worked on the plantation till it v.'as dark at night. Af- 
ter that they must prepare their food for supper and for the breakfast 
of the next day, and attend to other duties of their own dear homes. 
Parents would often have to work for their children at home, after 
each day's protracted toil, till the middle of the night, and then snatch 
a few hours' sleep, to get strength for the heavy burdens of the next 
day. 

In the month of November, and through the winter season.the 
men and women worked in the fields, clearing up new land, chop- 
ping and burning bushes, burning tar kilns, and digging ditches. They 
worked together, pqorly clad, and suffering from the bitter cold and 
wet of those winter months. Women, wives and mothers, daughters 
and sisters, on that plantation, were comj^elled to toil on cold, stormy 
days in the open field, while the piercing wind and driving storm be- 
numbed their limbs, and almost froze the tears that came forth out of 
their cold and desolate hearts. Little boys, and girls, too, worked 
and cried, toting brush to the fires, husking the corn, watching the 
stock, and rtmning out errands for master and mistress, for their three 
sons, Enoch, Edward and John, and constantly receiving from them 
scoldings and beatings as their reward. 

' Thus passed nine years, of my life ; years of suffering, the shud- 
dering memory of which is deeply fixed in my heart. 



UNCLE TOM. -9 

These nine years of wretchedness passed, and a change came for 
me. I\Iy master sold me to Mr. Jones of Washington, N. C, dis- 
tant forty-five miles from Hawes' plantation. Mr. Jones sent his 
slave driver, a colored man, named Abraliam, to conduct me to rny 
new home in Washington. I was at home with my mother when he 
came. He looked in at the dooi-, and called to me, " Tom. you 
must go with me." His looks were ugly and his voice was savage. 
I was very much afraid, and began to cry, holdin^on to my motjier's 
clothes and begging her to protect me, and not lH the man take ms 
away. Mother wept bitterly, and, in the midst of her loud sobbings, 
cried out in broken Vk'ords, " I can't save you, Tommy ; master has 
sold you, you must go." She threw her arms around me, and wliile 
the hot tears fell on my face, she strained me to her heart. There 
slje held me, sobbing and mourning, till the brutal Abraham came in, 
snatched me away, hurried me out of the house where I was born, 
my only home, and tore me away from the dear mother who loved 
me as no other friend could do. She followed him, imploring a mo- 
ment's delay and weeping aloud, to the road, where he turned around, 
and striking at her with his heavy cowhide, fiercely ordered her to 
stop bawling, and go back into the house. 

Thus w'ag I snatched from the presence of my loving parents,,*and 
from the true affection of the dear ones of home. For thirteen weary 
years did my heart turn in its yearnings to that precious home. And 
then, at the age of twenty-two, I was permitted to revisit my early 
home. I found it all desolate ; the family all broken up; father was 
sold and gone ; Richard, Alexander, Charles, Sarah, and John were 
sold and gone. Mother prematurely old, heart-broken, utterly deso- 
late, weak and dying, alone remained. 1 saw her, and wept once 
more on her bosom. I went back to my chains with a ddfeper woe 
in my heart than I had ever felt before. There was but one thought 
ofjoy in my wretched consciousness, and that was, that my kind and 
precious mother would soon be at rest in the grave. And then, too, 
I remember, I mused with deep earnestness on death, as (he only 
friend the poor slave had. And I wished that 1, too, might lie down 
by my mother's side, and die with her in her loving embrace. 

I should have related, that one of the earliest scenes of painful 
memory associated with my opening years of sufi^ering is connected 
with a severe whipping which my master inflicted on my sister Sarah. 
He tied her up, having compelled her to strip herself entirely naked 
in the smoke-house, and gave her a terrible whipping, — at least so it 
seemed to my young heart, as I heard her scream, and stood by my 
mother, who was wringing her hands in an agony of grief at the cru-' 
elties which her tender child was enduring. I do not know what my 
sister had .done for which she was thenwhipped ; but I remember 
that her body was marked and scarred for weeks after that terrible 



10 • EXPERIENCE OF , 

scourging, and that our parents always afier seemed to hold ihcir , 
breatli when they spoke of it. Sara!) was the last of the family who 
was sold ; and my poor mother never looked up after this final act of 
cruelty was accomplished. I think of my only sister now ; and of- 
ten try to imagine ichcre she is, and liow she lares in this cruel land 
of slavery. And, Oh, my God, how dark and wretched are these 
pictures I Can 1 think of that poor sister without a sorrow too great 
for utterance ? 

IMy journey to Wilmington with the heartless Abraham was a very 
sad one. We walked all the way. I was afraid of my savage com- 
panion ; and yet, my heart felt so desolate, and my longings for sym- 
pathy so intense, that I was impelled to, turn to my cruel guide for 
relief. He was striding along in stern gloom and silence, too fast for 
my voung feet to keep pace ; and 1 began to feel that I vmst sttp 
and rest. It was bitter cold, too, and 1 was poorly clad to bear the 
keen air of a January day. My limbs were weary with travel and 
'stiff with cold. I could not go on at the rate 1 had done, and so I 
turned to my guide, and begged him to take .me into some hut and 
let me rest and get v/arrn. He cursed me, and told me to keep 
silence and come along, or. he would warm me with the cow-hide. 
Oh,*J thought how cruel and hopeless my lot ! Would that I could 
fall down here and die. And I did fall down. We had just passed 
through a soft, wet place, and it seemed then to me that I was frozen. 
And I fell down on my dark, cold way, unable to proceed. 1 was 
then carried into a slave's cabin and allowed to warm and rest. It 
was nearly midnight when 1 arrived with my conductor at my place 
of exile and suffering. And certainly no heart could be more entirely 
wretched than I was when I threw i^y weary, aching body on my 
cold hard bed. 

The next morning I was called into the presence of Mr. Jones, my 
new master, and my work was assigned to me. 1 was to take care 
of the old gray horse, kept«for the use of the family when they wished 
to ride out, to fetch water from the spring to the house, to go on er- 
rands to my master's store, to clean the boots and shoes belonging to 
the white members of the lamily and to the white visiters, to sweep the 
rooms, and to bring wood from the wharf on my head for the fires at 
the house and store. From the first dawn of day till ten and eleven, 
and sometimes twelve at night, I could hardly find one.moment s 
time for rest. And, Oh, how the memory o^ that yearof constant 
toil and weariness is imprinted on my heart, an impression of ap])al- 
• ling sorrow. My dreams are still haunted with the agony of that 
year. I had just been torn from my home ; my yearning heart was 
deprived of the sweet sympathy of those to whose memory I then 
clung, and to whom my heart siill turns vyith irrepressible and unut- 
terable longings. 1 was torn from them and put into a circle of cold, 



UNCLE TOM. 11 

selfish and cruel hearts, and put then to perform labors too great for 
my youno strength. And yet I lived through that year, just as the 
slave lives on through weary years of suffering, on which no ray oi 
light shines, save that which hope of a better, happier future gives 
even to the desolate bondman. I lived through it, with all its dark- 
ness and sorrow. That year I received my first whipping. I had 
failed one day to finish my allotted task. It seemed to me that I had 
done my best ;, but, somehow, that day, thoughts of home came so 
fresh and tender into my mind, and, along with these thoughts, a 
sense of my utter hopeless desolation came in and took. such a strong 
hold of my heart, that 1 sank down a helpless, heart-broken child. 
My tasks for that day were neglected. The next morning my mas- 
ter made me strip off my shirt, and then whipped me with the cow- 
hide till the blood ran trickling down upon the floor. My master 
was very profane, and, with dreadful oaths, he assured me that there 
was only one way for me to avoid a repetition of this terrible disci- 
pline, and that was, to do my tasks every day, sick or well. 

And so this year went by, and my duties were changed, and my 
lot was made a little easier. The cook, Fanny, died, and I was put 
into her place. I still had to get wood and keep the fires in the 
house, and, after the work of cooking, setting the table, clearing away 
and washing the dishes, there was always something to be done for 
my mistress. I got but little time to rest ; but I got enough to eat, 
which I had riot done the yefir before. L was by the comfortable 
fire, a good part of the cold winter weather, instead of being exposed 
to the cold and wet, without warm clothing, as I had been the year 
before, and my labor was not so hard the second year as it had been 
the first. 

My mistress complained of me at length, that I was not so obedi- 
ent as I ought to be, and so I was taken from the house into the 
the store. My business there was to open and sweep out the store 
in the morning, and get all the things ready for the accommodation 
of customers who might come in during the' day. Then I had to 
bring out and deliver all heavy articles thatiaight be called for dur- 
ing the day, such as salt, large quantities of which were sold in the 
store; ship stores, grain, Stc, &c. I had also to hold myself ready 
to run on any errand my master or his clerk, David Cogdell, might 
wish to send me on. While Cogdell rema-ined in the store, 1 en- 
joyed a gleam of happiness. He was very kind to me, never giving 
me a cross word or a sour look ; always ready to show me how to do 
anything which I did not understand, an*d to perform little acts of 
kindness to me. But his kindness and generosity to the poor slaves 
was very offensive to my master and to other slave-holders ; and so, 
at length, Mr. Jones turned him off, though b.e was comiielled to ac- 
knowledge, at the same time, that he was the tnost trustwoithy and 
uajvable assistant he had ever had in his store. 



12 EXPERIENCE OF "^ 

After my master dismissed Mr. C, he tried to 'get along with me 
alone in tlie store. He kept the books and waited upon the most 
genteel of his customers, leaving me to do the rest of the work. This 
went on six months, when he declared that he could not bear this 
confinement any longer; and so he got a white boy to come and en- 
ter as clerk, to stay till he was of age. James Dixon was a poor 
boy, about my own age, and when he came into the store, could 
hardly read or write. He was accordingly engaged a part of each 
day with his books and writing, I saw him studying, and asked him 
to let me see his book. When- he felt in a good humor, James was 
very kind and obliging. The great t^rouble with him was, that his 
fits of ill-humor were much more frequent than his times of good feel- 
ing. It happened, however, that he was on good terms with himself 
when I asked him to show me his book, and so he let me take it, 
and look at it, and he answered very kindly many questions which 1 
asked him about books and schools and learning. He told me that 
he was tryinfr to zei learnino; enouirh to fit him to do a fjood business 
for himself after he should get through withMr. Jones. He told me 
that a man who had learning would always find friends, and get along 
very well in the world without having to work hard, while those who 
had no learning would have no friends and be compelled to work 
very hard for a poor living all their days. This was all new to me, 
and furnished me topics for wondering thought for days afterwards. 
The result of my meditations was, that an intense, burning desire to 
learn to read and write took possession of my mind, occupying me 
wholly in waking hours, and stirring up earnest thoughts in my soul 
even when I slept. The question, w'hich then took hold of my whole 
consciousness was, how can 1 get a book to begin ?• James told me 
that a spelling-book was the first one necessary in getting learning. 
So I contrived how I might obtain a spelling-book. At length, after 
much study ,« I hit upon tliis plan : I cleaned the boots of a Mr. Da- 
vid Smith, Jr., who cavried on the printing business, in Wilmington, 
and edited the Cape Fear Recorder. He had always appeared to 
me to be a very kind man. 1 thought I would get him to aid me in 
procuring a spelling-book. So I went one morning, with a» beating 
heart, into his office, and asked him to sell me a spelling-book. He 
looked at me in silence, and with close attention, for some time, and 
asked 'me what I wanted. I told him I wanted to learn to read. 
He shook his head, and replied, " No, Thomas, it would not anwer 
for me to sell you a book tp learn out of; you will only get yourself 
into trouble if you attempt it ; and I advise you to get that foolish 
notion out of your head as quickly as you can." 

David's brother, Peter Smith, kept a book and stationery store un 
der the printing-office, and I next applied to him for a book, deter- 
mined to persevere till I obtained this coveted treasure. He asked 



rNCLE TOM. 13 

me the same question that his brother David had done, and with the 
same searching, suspicious look. By my previous repulse I had dis- 
covered that I could not get a spelling-book, if 1 told what 1 wanted 
to do with it, and so I told a lie, in order to get it. I answered, that 
I wanted it for a white boy, naming one that lived at my master's, 
and that he had- given me the money to get it with, and had asked 
me to call at the store and buy it. The book- was then handed out 
to me, the money taken in return, aud I left^ feeling very rich with 
my long desired treasure. I got out of the store, and, looking round 
to see that no one observed me, 1 hid my book in my bosom, and 
hurried on to my work, conscious ^that a new era in my life was open- 
ing upon me through the possession of this book. That conscious- 
ness at once awakened new thoughts, purposes and hopes, a new life, 
and act, in my experience. My mind was excited. The words 
spoken by James Dixon of the great advantages of learning, made 
me intensely anxious to learn. 1 was a slave ; and I knew that the 
whole community was in league to keep the poor slavfe in ignorance 
and chains. Yet I longed to be free, and. to be able to move the 
minds ol other men by my thoughts. It seemed to me now, that, if 
I could learn to read and write, this learning might — nay, I really 
thought it would, point out to me the way to freedom, influence, and 
real, secure happiness. So I hurried on to my master's store, and, 
watching my opportunity to do it safe from curious eyes, I hid my 
book with the \itmost care, under some liquor barrels in the smoke- 
house. The first opportunity I improved to examine my book. I 
looked it over with the most intent eagerness, turned over its leaves, 
and tried to discover what the new and strange characters which I saw 
in its pages might mean. But I found it a vain endeavor. I could 
understand a picture, and from it make out a story of immediate in- 
terest to my mind. But I could not associate any thought or fact 
with these crooked letters with which my primmer was filled. So 
the next day 1 sought a favorable moment, and asked James to tell- 
me where a scholar must begin in order to learn to read, and how. 
He laughed at my ignorance, and, taking his spelling-book, shewed 
me the alphabet in large and small letters on the same page. I 
asked him the name of the first letter, pointing it out, he told me A ; 
so of the next, and so on through the alphabet. I managed to re- 
member A and B, and I studied and looked out the same letters in 
many other parts of the book. And so I fixed in a tenacious mem- 
ory the names of the two first letters of the alphabet. But I found 
I couid not get on without help, and so I applied to James again to 
show me the letters and tell me their names. This time he sus- 
pected me of trying to*learn to read myself, and he plied me with 
questions lill he ascertained that 1 was, in good earnest, entering upon 
an effort to get knowledge. At this discovery, he manifested a good 



14 EXPERIENCE OF 

deal of indignation. He told me, in scorn, that it was not for such 
as me to try to improve, that /was a slave, and that it was not proper 
for me to learn to read. He threatened to tell my master, and at 
length, by his hard language, my anger was fully aroused, and 1 an- 
swered taunt with taunt. He called me a poor, miserable nigger ; 
and I called him a poor, ignorant white servant boy. While we 
were engaged in loud and angry words, of mutual defiance and scorn, 
my master came into the store. Mr. Jones had never given me a 
whipping since the time I have already desciibed, during my first year 
of toil, want and sufiering in his service. But he had now caught me 
in the unpardonable offence of givipg saucy language to a while boy, 
and one, too, who was in his employ. Without stopping to make 
any enquiries, he took dovvn the cow-hide, and gave me a severe 
whipping. • He told' me never to talk back to a white man on pain 
of flogging. I suppose this law or custom is universal at the south. 
And I suppose it is thought necessary to enforce this habit of obse- 
quious submission on the part of the colored people to the whites, in 
order to maintain their supremacy over the poor, outraged slaves. 

I will niention, in this connection, as illustrative of this cruel cus- 
tom., an incident' which I saw just before I ran away from my chains, 
A I'ttle colored boy was carrying along through Wilmington a basket, 
of food. His name was Ben, and he belonged to Mrs. Runkin, a 
widow lady. Aiittle mischievous white boy, just about Ben's age 
and size, met him, 'and purposely overturned the little fellow's basket, 
and scattered his load in the mud. Ben, in return for this wanton 
act, called him some hard name, when the white boy clinched him 
to hrow him down with the scattered fragments upon his basket in 
the mud. Ben resisted and threw down the white boy, proving to 
be the stronger of the two. Tom Myers, a young la'wer of Wilming- 
ton, saw the contest, and immediately rushing out, seized little Ben, 
and dragged him into the store opposite the place of battle. He sent 
out to a saddler's shop, procured a cow-hide, and gave the little fel- 
low a tremendous flogging, for the daring crime of resisting a white 
boy who had wantonly invaded his rights. Is it any wonder that the 
spirit of self-respect of the poor, ignorant slave is broken down by 
such treatment of unsparing and persevering cruelty ? 
. ; I was now repulsed by James, so that 1 could hope for no assis- 
tance from him in learning to read. But I could not go on alone. 
I must get some one to aid me in starting, or give up the eftbrt to 
learn. This I could not bear to do. I longed to be able to read, 
and so I cast about me to see what I should do next. I thought of 
a kind bay at the bake-house, near my own age. I thought he would 
help me, and so I went to him, showed my "book, and asked liim to 
teach me the letters. He told their names, and went over the whole 
alphabet^with me |three times. By this assistance, I learned a few 



UNCLE TOM. • 15 

more of the letters, so that I could remember them afterwards when 
I sat down alone and tried to call them over. 1 could now pick out 
and name five or six of the letters in any part of the book. I felt 
then that I was getting along, and the consciousness that I was m *v- 
ing progress, though slow and painful, was joy and hope to my sor- 
rowing heart, such as I had never felt before. I could not with safety 
go to the bake-honse, as there I was exposed to detection by the 
sudden entrance of customers or idlers. I wanted to get a teacher 
who would give me a little aid each day, and I now set about secur- 
ing this object. As kind Providence would have it, I easily suc- 
ceeded, and on this wise: A little boy, Hiram Bricket, ten years old, 
or about that age, came along bv the store one day, on his way home 
from school, while my master was gon<? home to dinner, and James 
was in the front part of the store. I beckoned to Hiram to come 
round to the back door; and with him I made a bargain to meet me 
eac!i day at woon, when I was allowed a little while to get my din- 
ner, and to give me instruction in reading. I was to give him six 
cents a week. 1 met him the next day at his father's stable, the 
place agreed upon for our daily meeting ; and, going into one of the 
stables, the noble little Hiram gave me a thorough lesson in the al- 
phabet. I learned it nearly all at that time, with what study I could 
give it by stealth during the day and night. And then again I felt 
lifted up and happy. * 

I was permitted to enjoy these advantages, however, but a short 
tirne. A black boy, belonging to Hiram's father, one day discovered 
our meeting and what we were doing. He told his master of it,. and 
Hiram was at once forbidden this employment. I had then got along 
so that 1 was reading and spelling in words of two syllables. My 
noble little teacher was very patient and faithful with me, and my 
days were passing away in very great happiness under the»conscious- 
ness that I was learning to read. I felt at night, as I went to my 
rest, that I was really beginning to be a man, preparing mysejf for a 
condition in life better and higher and happier than could belona to 
the ignorant slave. And in this blessed feeling 1 found, waking and 
sleeping, a most precious happiness. 

After I was deprived of my kind little teacher, I plodded on the 
best way I could by myself, and in this way I got into words of five 
=ryllables. 1 got some little time to study by daylight in the morn- 
ing, before any of my master's family had risen. I got a inoment's 
opportunity, also at noon, and sometimes at night. During the day, 
I was in the back store a good deal, and whenever I thought I could 
have five minutes to myself, I would take my book and try to learn a 
Itlle in reading and spelling. If I heard James, or master Jones, or 
ainy customer coming in, I would drop my book among the barrels, 
and pretend to be very busy shovelling the salt or doing some other 



16 • EXPERIENCE OF 

work. Several limes I came very near being detected. Rly mas- 
ter suspected something, because I was so still in the back room, and 
a number of times he came very slyly to see what I was about. 
Birt at such times I was always so fortunate as to bear bis tread or to 
see his shadow on the wall in time to hide away my book. 

When I bad got along to words of five syllables, 1 went to see a 
free colored friend, Ned Cowen, whom I knew 1 could trust. I 
told him I was trying to learn to read, and asked him to help me a 
little. He said he did not dare to give me any instruction, but he 
heard me read a few words, and then told me I should learn if I 
would only persevere as nobly as I bad done thus far. I told him 
how I had got along, and what difficulties I had met with. He en- 
couraged me, and spoke very kindly of my efforts to improve my con- 
dition by getting learning. He told me I bad" got along far enough 
to get another book, in which I could learn to write the letters, as 
well as to read. He told me where and bow to procure this book., 
1 followed his directions, and obtained another spelling-book at Wor- 
cester's store, in Wilmington. Jacob showed me a little"about writ- 
ing. He set me a copy, first of straight marks. I now got me a 

ox, which I could hide under my bed,l some ink, pens, and a bit of 
candle. So, when I went to bed, I puled my box out from under 
my cot, turned it up on end, and began my first attempt at writing. 
I worked away till my candle was burned out, and then lay down to 
sleep. Jacob next set me a copy, which he called pot-hooks; then, 
•the letters of the alphabet. These letters were also in my new spel- 
ling-book, and according to Jacob's directions, I set them before me 
for a. copy, and wrote on these exercises till I could form all the let- 

ers and call them by name. One evening I wrote out my name in 
large letters,— THOMAS JONES. This I carried to Jacob, in a 
great excitement of happiness, and he warmly commended me for my 
perseveraiice and diligence. 

AboLU this lime, I was at the store early one morning, and, think- 
ing I was safe from all danger for a few minutes, had sealed myself in 
the back store, on one of the barrels, to study in my precious spelling- 
book. While I was absorbed in this happy enterprize, my master 
came in, much earlier than usual, and 1 did not bear him. He came 
directly into the back store. I saw bis shadow on the wall, jus in 
time to throw my book over in among the barrels, before he could 
see what it was, although he saw that I had thrown something quick- 
ly away. His suspicion was aroused. He said that 1 had been 
stealing something out of the store, and he fiercely ordered me to get 
what 1 threw away just as be was coming in at the door. Without 
a moment's hesitation, I determined to save my precious book and 
my future opportunities to learn out of it. I knew if my book was 
discovered, that all was lost, and I felt prepared for any hazard or 



UNCi.E TOM. 



17 



suffering rather than give up my book and my hopes of iinprovement. 
So I replied at once lo his queslion, that I had not thrown anything 
away ', tliat I had not stolen anyililng from the store ; that 1 did not 
have anything in my hands which I could throw away when be came 
in. My master declared, in a high passion, that 1 was lying, and 
ordered me to begin and roll away the barrels. This 1 did ; but 
managed to keep the book slip|)ing along so that he could not see it, 
as he°stood in the door-way. He charged n)e again with steahng and. 
throwing something away, and 1 again denied the charge. In a great 
ra^e, heathen got down his long, heavy cow-hide, and ordered me to 
strlp'ofFmy jacket and shirt, sa)ing, with an oath, " 1 will make you 
tell me what it was you had wlien I came in." I stripped myself, 
and came forward, according to his directions, at the same time deny- 
inc^ his chart^e with great earnestness of tone, and look, and manner. 
He cut me o°i my naked back, perhaps thirty times, with great sever- 
ity, making the blood flow freely. He then stopped, and asked me 
what 1 had thrown away as he came in. 1 answered again that I 
had thrown nothing away. He swore terribly ; said he was certain! 
was lying, and declared that he would kill me, if I did not tell him 
the truth? He whipped me the second time with greater severity, 
and at greater length than before. He then repeated his question, 
and I answered again as before. I was determined to die, il I could 
possibly bear the pain, rather than give up my dear book. He whip- 
ped me the third time, with th^ same result as before, and then, seiz- 
inf^ hold of my shoulders, turned me round, as though he would in- 
flict on my quivering flesh still another scourging ; but he saw the 
deep gashes he had already made, aud the blood already flowing un- 
der his cruel infliction ; and his stern purpose failed him. He said, 
" Why, Tom, I didn't think I had cut you so bad," and, saying that, 
he stopped, and told me lo put on my shirt again. 1 did as he bade 
me, although my coarse shirt touching my raw back put rne to a crue 
pain. He'then went out, and 1 got my book and hid it safely away 
before he came in a^ain. When I went to the house, my wounds 
had dried, and I was1n an agony of pain. My mistress told the ser- 
vant girl, Rachel, to help me ofF with my shirt, and^ to wash my 
wounds for me, and put on to them some sweet oil. The shirt was 
dried to my back, so that it cpuld not be got off without tearing off 
some of the skin with it. The pain, upon doing this, was greater 
even than I had endured from my cruel whipping. After Rachel 
had got my shirt off, my mistress asked me what I had done for 
which my master had whipped me so severely. 1 told her he lud 
accused me of stealing when I had not, and then had whipped me 
to make me own it. . < 

While Rachel was putting on the sweet oil, my master came m^ 
nd I could hear- mistress scolding him for giving me such an inhu 
• 2 



IS EXPERIENCE OF 

man beating, when I had done nothing. He said in reply, that Tom 
was an obstinate liar, and that was the reason why he had whipped 
me. * 

But I got well of my mangled back, and my book was still left. 
This was my best, my constant friend. With great eagerness, I 
snatched every moment I could get, morning, noon, and niglit, for 
study. I had begun to read ; and, Oh, how I loved to study, 
and to dwell on the thoughts which I gained from my reading. About 
this time, I read a piece in my book about God. It said that " God, 
who sees and knows all our thoughts, loves the good and makes them 
happy ; while he is angry with the bad, and will punish them for all 
their sins." This made me feel very unliappy, because I was sure- 
that I was not good in the sight of God. 1 thought about this, • 
and couldn't get it out of my mind a single hour. So I went to 
James Galley, a colored man, who exhorted the slaves sometimes 
on Sunday, and told h'.cn my trouble, asking, " what shall I do ?" 
He told me about Jesus, and told me I must pray the Lord to 
forgive me and help me to be good and happy. So I went home, 
and went down cellar and prayed, but I found no relief, no com- 
fort for my unhappy mind. I felt so bad, that ] could not even 
study my book. My master saw that I looked very unhappy, 
and he asked me what ailed me. I did not dare now to tell a lie, 
for 1 wanted to be good, that I might be happy. So I told mas- 
ter just how it was with me ; and then he swore terribly at me, 
and said he would whip me if I did not give over praying. He 
said there was no heaven and no hell, and that Cliristians were 
all hypocrites, and that there was nothing after this life, and that 
he would not permit me to go moping roimd, praying and going 
to the meetings, I told him I could not help praying ; and then 
he cursed me in a great passion, and declared that he would 
whip me if he knew of my going on any more in that foolish way. 
The next night I was to a meeting, which was led by Jack Gam- 
mon, a free colored man, and a class leader in the Methodist 
Church. I was so much overcome by my feelings, that I stiid 
ver^ late. They prayed for me, but I did not yet find any re- 
lief; I was still very unhappy. The next morning, my master 
came in, and asked me if I went lhe«night before to the meeting. 
I told him the truth. He said, " didn't I tell you I would whip 
you if you went nigh these meetings, and did'nt 1 tell you to stop 
this foolish praying." T told him he did, and if he would, why, 
he might whip me, but still I could not stop praying, because I 
wanted to be good, that ] might be happy and go to heaven. 
This reply niade my master very angry. VVith many bitter oaths, 
he said he had promised me a whipping, and now he should be 
as good as bis word. And so he was. He whipped me, and 



UNCl.K TOM. 19 

then forbade, with bitter threatenings, my praying any more, and 
especially my going again to meeting. This was Friday morn- 
ing. I continued to pray lor comfort and peace. • The next Sun- 
day 1 went to meeting. The minister preached a sermon on be- 
ing born again, from the words of Jesus lo Nicodemus. All this 
only deepened my trouble of mind. I returned home very un- 
happy. Collins, a free man of coh)r, was at the meeting, and 
told my master that I was there, i^o, on Monday morning my 
master whipped me again, and once more forbade my going to 
meetings and praying. The next Sunday there was a class 
meeting, led by Binney Pennison, a colored free man. I asked 
my master, towards night, if I might go out. I told him I did 
not feel well. I wanted to go to the class meeting. Without 
asking me where I was going, he said I might go. I went to the 
class. I staid very late, and was so overcome by my feelings, 
that I could not go home that night. So they carried me o 
Joseph Jones's cabin, a slave of Mr. Jones. Joseph talked and, 
prayed with me nearly all night. In the morning I went home 
^as soon as it was light, and, for fear of master, I asked Nancy, 
one of the slaves, to go up into mistress's room and get the store 
key for me, that I might go and open the store. My master told 
her to go back and tell me to come up. I obeyed with many 
fears. My master asked me where I had been the night before. 
I told him the whole truth. He cursed me again, and said he 
should whip me for my obstinate disobedience: and he declared 
that he would kill me if I did not promise to obey him. He re 
fused to listen to iny mistress, who was a professor, and who 
tried to intercede for me. And, just as soon as he had finished 
threatening me with %what he would do, he ordered me to take 
the key and go and open the store. When he came into the 
store that morning, two of his neighbors, Julius Dumbiven, and 
McCauslin, came in too. He called me up, and asked me again 
where I staid last night. 1 told him with his boy, Joseph. He 
said he knew that was a lie ; and he immediately sent off for 
Joseph to confirm his suspicions. He ordered me to strip off 
my clothes, and, a^ I did so, he took down the cow-hide heavy 
and stiff with blood which he had before drawn from my body 
with that cruel weapon, and which was congealed upon it. 
Dumbiven professed to be a Christian, and he now came forward 
and earnestly interceded for me, but to no purpose, and then he 
left. McCauslin asked my master, if he did not know, that a 
lave was worth more money after he became pious than he was 
' before. And why then, he said, should you forbid Tom going 
to meetings and praying ? Ho replied, that religion was all a 
damned mockery, and he was not going to have any, of his slaves 



20 EXPERIENCE OF 

prayin^r and whining round about iheir ?onls. McCauslin then 
left. Joseph came and told the same story about the night before 
that I had done*; and then he began to beg master not to whip 
me. He cursed him and drove him off. He then whipped me 
v.'ith great severity, inflicting terrible pain at every blow vinon 
my quivering body, which was still very tender from recent lac- 
erations. My sutlering was so great, that it seemed to me I 
should die. He paused at length, and asked me would I mind 
him and stop praying. I told him I could not promise him not 
to pray any more, for I felt that I must and should pray as long 
as I lived. " Wei], then, Tom," he said, " I swear that I will 
whip }ou to death " I told him I could not help myself, i( he 
was determined to Kill me, but that 1 must, pray while I lived. 
He then began to whip me the second time, but soon stopped, 
threw down the bloody cow-hide, and told me to go wash njy- 
self in the river, just back of the store, and then dress myself, and 
if I was determined to be a fool, why, I must be one. My 
mistress now interceded earnestly for me w^ith my cruel master 
The next Sabbath was love feast, and I felt very anxious to join 
in that feast. This 1 could not do without a paper from my 
master, and so I asked mistress to help me. She advised me to 
be patient, and said she would help me all she could. Masier 
refused to give any paper, and so I could not join the lovein 
feast tjie next day. 

On the next Friday evening, I went to the prayer meeting. 
Jack Gammon was there, and opened the meeting with prayer. 
Then Binney Pennison gave out the sweet hymn, which begins 
in these words : 

" Come ye sinners poor and neeay, ^ 
Weak and wounded, sick and sore." 

I felt that it all applied most sweetly to my condiiion, and I said 
in my heart, I will come now to Jesus, and trust in hin). So 
when those who felt anxious were requested to come forward 
and kneel within the altar for prayer, I came and knell down. 
While Jacob Gammon was prajmg for me, and for those who 
knelt by my side, my burden ol sorrow, w*) ch had so long- 
weighed me down, was removed, I fell the glory of God's ove 
warming my heart, and making me very happy. I shouted 
aloud for joy, and tried to tell all my poor Niave brothers and 
sisters, who were in the house, what a dear Savior I had found, 
and how happy I felt in his precious love. Einney Pennison 
asked mC' if I could forgive iriy master. I told him 1 could, and 
did, and that I couhi pray God to forgive him, too, and make 
him a good man. He asked me if I'could tell my master of ihe 



UNCLE TOM. 



21 



change in my feelings. I told him T shouUl tell him in the morn- 
ing. " And what," he asked, " will you do if iie whips you 
still for praying and going to meeting?" I said I will ask Jesus 
to help me to bear the pain, and to forgive my master for being 
so wicked. He then said, " Well, then, Brother Jones, I believe 
that you are a Christian." 

A good many of us went from the meeting to a brother's cal)- 
in, where we began to e'xpress our joy in happy songs. The 
palace of General Dudley was only a litUe way off, and he soon 
sent over a slave with orders to stop our noise, or he would send 
the patrolers upon us. We then stopped our singing, and spent 
the remainder of the night in talking, rejoicing, and praying. It 
was a night of very great happiness to me. The contrast between 
my feelings then, and for many weeks previous, was very great. 
Now all was bricrht and joyous in my relations towards my prec- 
ious Savior. I felt certain that Jesus" was my Savior, and, ia 
this blessed assurance, a flood of glory and joy filled my happy 
soul. But this sweet night passed away, and, as the morning 
came, Ifelt that I must go home, and bear the slave's heavy 
cross. I went, and told my mistress the blessed change in my 
feelings. She promised me what aid she could give me with my 
master, and enjoined upon me to be' patient and very faithful to 
his interest, and, in this way, I should at length wear out his op- 
position to my praying and going to meeting. 

I went down to the store in a very happy state of mind. I 
told James my feelings. He calh-d me a fool, and said master 
would be sure to whip me. I told him I ho])ed 1 should be able 
to bear it, and to forgive master for his cruelly to me. Master 
came down, talked with me a while, and told me that he should 
whip me because I had disobeyed him in staying out all night. 
He had told me he should whip me if ever I do so, and he should 
make every promise good. So I began to take off my clothes. 
He called me a crazy fool, and told me to keep my clothes on, 
till he told me to take them off. He whipped me over my jack- 
et ; but I enjoyed so/tnuch peace of mind, that I scarcely felt the 
cow-hide. This was the last whipping that Mr. Jones infUcteiJ 
upon me. 

I was then nearly eighteen years old. I waited and begged 
for a paper to join ihe Church six months before I could get it. 
But all this time I was cheerful, as far as a slave can be, and 
evry earnest to do all I could for my master and mistress. I was 
resolved to convince them that I was happier and better for be- 
ing a Christian ; and my master at last acknowledged that he 
could not find any fault with my conduct, and that it was im- 
possible to find a more faithful slave than 1 was to him. And 



'22 



EXPERIENCE OF 



SO, at, lasl,' he gave me a paper to Ben English, the leader oflhe 
colored members, and I joined the love feast, and \yas taken in- 
to the Church on trial ior six months. I was put into Billy 
(Cochran's class. At the expiration of six months, I was receiv- 
ed into the Chjarch in full fellowship, Quaker Davis' class. I 
remained there three years. My master W£>s so much kinder 
after this time than he had ever been before ; and I was allowed 
some .more lime to myself than I had been before. I pursued 
my studies as far as I could, but I soon found the utter impossi- 
bility of garrying on my studies as I wished to do. I was a 
slave, and all avenues to real itnprovement I found guarded with 
jealous care and cruel tenacity against the despised arid desola- 
ted bondman. 

I still felt a longing desire to improve, to be free, but the con- 
viction was gelling hold of my soul, that I was only struggling 
in vain when seeking to elevate myself into a^ manly and happy 
position. And now my mind was fast sinking into despair. I 
could read and write, and often enjoyed much happiness in por- 
ing over the very few books 1 couid obtain ; and especially, at 
times, I found great4peace in reading my old, worn Testament. 
But I wanted now that hope which had filled my mind with such 
joy when I first began to learn to read. I found rnuch happi- 
ness in prayer. But here, also, my mind labored in sadness 
and darkness much of the time. 

About this lime, my ma>ter was, taken sick. On Sunday, he 
was prostrated by mortal pains ; and, on F'riday the same week, 
he died. He left fifteen slaves, I was purchased by Owen 
Holmes for $435,00. I was then in my iwenty-third year. I 
had just passed through the darkest season of despairing agony 
that 1 had yet known. This came upon me in consequence of 
the visit, which I nave already dcscnbed,to my dear old desolate 
home. About this time, too, I entered into a new and di>tinct 
period of life, which I will unfold in another chapter. I will 
close this period of sorrow and shame with a lew lines of 
touching interest to my mind. 

Who shall avenge the slave ? I stood and oried ; 
The earth, the earth, the echoinr; sea replied. 
I turned me to the cean, but each wave 
Declined to'bo the aven^^er of the slave. 
Who shall avenge the slave ? my species cried ; 
The winds, the flood, the lightning of the sky. 
I turned to these, from ihem one echo raa, 
The right avenger of the slave is man. 
Man was my fellow ; in his sight I stood. 
Wept and besought him by the voice of blood. 
Sternly he looked, as proud on earth he trod. 
Then said, the avenger of the slave is God. 
. I looked in prayer towards Heaven, a while 'twas stiU^^ 
And then, methought, God's voice replied, I wii i^ 



UNCLE TOM. 



CHAPTER SECOND. 

I enter now upon a new developement of wrongs and woes which 
1 as a slave, was called to undergo. I must go back some two or 
hree years from the fune when my master d,ed and 1 was sold to 
Owen Holmes. The bitterness of persecution which master Jones 
?a kept up against me so long, because I would try to serve the 
Lord, had passed away. 1 was permitted to pray and go o oui 
n^eet n.s without molestation. My master laid as.de h.s terrible se- 
Verity towards me. By his treatment of me afterwards, he seened 
to feel that he had done me wrong in scourging me as he had done 
because I could not obey his wicked command, to stop praying and 
keep away from the meetings. For, after the time of my joining 
the Church, he allowed me to go to all the meetings,, and granted to 
me many other little favors, which 1 had never before received from 
Sm. About this time, I began to feel very lonely. 1 wan ed a 
friend to whom 1 could tell my story of sorrows, of unsatisfied long- 
ing, of new and fondly cherished plans I wanted a compamon 
vvh^mlcould love with all my warm ^^^^^^ "t St think 
me in return whh a true and fervent heart, of whom I^^'S ^/^^''^ 
when toiling for a selfish, unfeeling mastei>who should dwe 1 fondly 
on my men°ory when we were separated dunng the severe labors of 
the day, and with whom I might enjoy the blessed l^^PP''-^^^ ;°: 
cial endearments after the work of each day was over My he t 
yearned to have a home, if it was only the wretched home of the 
iftprotected slave, to have a wife to love me and to love. It seems 
to me that no one can have such fondness of love, and such intensi- 
tv of desire for home and home affections as the poor slave. Des- 
pised and trampled upon by a cruel race of unfeeling men, the bond- 
man must die in the prince of his wretched life, if he finds no refuge 
in a dear home, where love and sympathy shall meet him from 
hearts made sacred to him by his ovvn irrepressible affection and 
tenderness for them. And so I sought to love and t^3 u.n a true 
heart in return. 1 did this, too, with a full knowledge o the des- 
perate acTony that the slave husband and father is exposed to Had 
I not see'^n this in the anguish of my own parents ? Yea Isaw it 
in every public auction, where men and women and children uere 
broucrhtupon the block, examined, and bought. Isaw it on such 
occasions, in the hopeless agony depicted on the countenance o • 
husband, and wife, there separated .to meet no more m this ciue 



24 ' EXPERIENCE OF 

world ; and in t!ie screams of wild despair and useless entreaty 
which the mother, ib.en deprived of her darling child, sent foi^lh. I 
heard the doom ^ which stares every slave parent in the face each 
waking and sleeping hour of an unhappy life. And yet I sought to 
hecome a husband and a lather, becaus I felt that I could live no 
longer unloved and unloving. I was married to Lucilla Smith, the 
save of Mrs. Rloore. Jie caUed it and we considered it a true 
marriage, although we knew well that marriage was not permitted 
to the slaves, as a sacred right of the loving heart. Lucilla Was 
seventeen years old when we were married. I loved her with all 
my heart, and she gave me a return for my affections, with which I 
was contented. Oh, God of Love, thou knowest what happy hours 
we have passed in each other's 'society in our poor cabin. When 
we knelt in prayer, we never forgot to ask God to save us from the 
misery of cruel separation, while life and love were our portion. Oh, 
how we have talked of this dreaded fate, and wept in mingling sor- 
row, as we thought of our desolation, if we should be parted and 
doomed to live on weary years away from each other's dear pres- 
ence. We had three dear little babes. Our fondness for our pre- 
cious children increased the current feeling of love for each other, 
which filled our hearts. They were bright, precious things, those 
little babes ; at least, so they seemed to us. Lucilla and I were 
never tired of planning to improve their condition, as far as might 
be done for slaves. We prayed with new fervency to our Father in 
heaven to protect our precious babes. Lucilla was very proud o 
me, because I could reftd and write, and she often spoke of my 
teaching our dear little ones, and then she would say, with tears, 
"Who knows, Thomas, but they may yet be free and hnppy V\ 
Lucilla was a valuable slave to her mistress. She was a seamstress 
and very expert at her needle. I had a constant dread that Mrs 
Moose, her mistress, would be in want of money, and sell my dear 
wife. We constantly dreaded a final separation. Our affections for 
each other was very strong, and this made us always apprehensive 
of a cruel parting.' These fears were well founded, as our sorrow- 
ing hearts too soon learned, A few years of very pure and constant 
happiness, for slaves, passed away, and we were parted to meet but 
once again till we meet in Eternity. Mrs. Moore left Wilmington, 
and moved to Newburn. She carried with her my beloved Lucilla, 
and my three children, Annie, four years old ; Lizzie, two an-d a half 
years; and our sweet little babe, Charlie. She remained there 
eighteen months. And, Oh, how lonely and dreary and desponding 
were those months of lonely life to my crushed heart ! My dear 
wife and my precious children were seventy-four miles distant from 
me, carried away from me in utter scorn of my beseeching \\ ords. 
I was tempted to put an end to my wretched life. I thought of my 



UNCLE TOM. '**' 



dear family by day and by night. A deep despair was in my heart, 
such as no one is called to bear in such cruel, cmshinij; power as the 
poor slave, severed forever from the objects of his love, by the ca- 
pacity of his brother. But that dark time of despair passed a\vay, 
and I saw once more my wife and children. Mrs. Moore left New- 
burn for Tuscaloosa, Ala., and, passing through Wilu^injiton, on her 
journey, she spent one ni^ht in her old home. That night [ passed 
with my wife and children. Lucilla had pined away under the 
agony of our se[)aration, even more than I had done. That night 
she wept on my bosom, and we mingled bitter tears together. Our 
dear children were baptized in the tears of agony that were wrung- 
from our breaking hearts. The just God remember that night in 
the last award that we and our oppressors are to receive. 

The next morning Mrs. Moore embarked on board the packet. 
I followed my wife and children to the boat, and parted from them 
without a word of farewell. Our sobs and tears were our only adieu. 
Our hearts were too full of anguish for any other expression of our . 
hopeless woe. I have never seen that dear family since, nor have I 
heard from them since I parted from them there. God only knows 
the bitterness of my agony, experienced in the separation of my 
wife and children from me. The memory of that great woe will 
find a fresh impression on my heart while that heart shall b 
How will the gifted and the great meet the charge against them at 
the great day, as the Judge shall say to them, in stern displeasure, 
" I was sick, destitute, imprisoned, helpless, and ye ministered not 
unto me, for when ye slighted and despised these wretched, 
pleading, slaves, ye did these acts of scorn against me. Depart, 
ye workers of iniquity." 

After my purchase by Owen Holmes, 1 hired my time at ^150,* 
per year, paid monthly. 1 rented a house of Dr. E. J. Derset. 
I worked, loading amd unloading vessels that came into Wilmington, 
and could earn from one dollar to a dollar and a quarter a day. 
While my wife and family were spared to bless my home by their 
presence and love, I was comparatively happy. But 1 found then 
that the agony of the teirrble thought, " I am a slave, my wife is a 
slave, my precious children are slaves," grew bitter and insupport- 
able, just as the happiness in the society of my beloved home be- 
came more distinct and abounding. And this one cup of bitterness 
was ever at my lips. Hearts of kind somj)athy tender pily>, did I 
not drain that cup of bitter woe to its very dregs, when my family 
were carried off into returnless exile, and I was left a heartbroken 
lonely man ? Can you still be enaclive while thousands are drink- 
ing that potion of despair every year in this land of schools and 
Bibles ? After I parted from my family, I continued to toil on, but 
riot as I have done before. No home was darker than the holds of 



26 EXPERIENCE OF 

ships in which I worked. Its hght, the bright joyous light of love 
and sympathy and mutual endearments, was quenclied. Ah me, 
Iiow dark it lelt my poor heart. It was colder than the winter wind 
and frost; the warm sunshine was snatched av\ay, and my poor 
heart froze in its bitter cold. Its gloom was deeper than prison or 
cave could make it. Was not there the deserted chairs and beds, 
once occupied by the objects of a husband's and a father's deep 
love? Deserted! How, and why? The answer, is it not the un- 
qualified condemnation of the government and religion of this land ; 
1 could not go into my cold, dark, cheerless house; the sight of 
'its deserted room was despair to my soul. So I worked on, taking 
jobs whenever I could gel them, and working often till nearly morn- 
ing, and never going to my home for rest till I could toil no more. 
And so I passed four years, and I began to feel that I could not live in 
utter loneliness any longer. My heart was still and always yearn- 
ing for affection and sympathy and loving communion. My wife 
was torn from me, 1 had ceased to hope for another meeting with 
her in this world of oppression and suffering; so I sat down and 
wrote to Lucilk, that I could live alone no longer, and saying to her 
the sad farewell, which we could not say wiien we were sundered. 
I asked Mary R. Moore to come and cheer me in my desolate home. 
Siie became my wife, and, thank God. she has been rescued from 
slavery by the bless.ing of God and my efforts .to save her. She is 
now my wife, and she is whh me to-day, and till death parts us, 
secure from the iron hand of slavery. Three of our dear children 
are with us, too, in the old Commonwealth. I cannot say they are 
in a free land ; for, even here, in the city of Boston, where, I am 
told, is kept the old cradle of liberty, my precious children are ex- 
cluded from the public schools, because their skin is black. Still, 
Boston is better than Wilmington, inasmuch as the rulers of this 
place permit me to send my children to any school at all. After my 
second marriage, I hired my wife of her master, and paid for her 
time $48,00 a year, for three years. W^e had one child while Mary 
was a slave. That child is still in chains. The fourth year, by the 
aid of a white friend, I purchased my wife for ^350,00. We had 
before determined to try to accomplish this enterprise, in order that 
our dear babes might be free. Besides, I felt that I could not bear 
another cruel separation from wife and children. Yet, the d>-ead of 
it was strong and unceasing upon my mind. So we mad? a box 
and, through a hole in the top, we put in every' piece ol mo ney 
from five cents up to a dollar, that we could save from our hard 
earnings. This object nerved us for unceasing toil, fo"r twenty 
months, or about that time. What hopes and fears beset us as those 
months wore away. I have been compelled to hide that box in a 
hole, dug for it, when I knew the patrollers were coming to search 



UNCLE TOM. 



2i 



my cabin. For well did I know, if they found my box, I should be 
lenniless again. How often bave I started and turned in sudden 
nd terrible alarm, as T bave dropped a piece of money into my 

X, and beard its loud ring upon the coin below, lest some prowhng 
my should hear it, and steal from me my boarded treasure. 
\ ' how often have 1 started up in my sleep, as the storm has beat 
rfloud upon my humble home, with the cry of unspeakable agony in 
my heart, — " Then, O God, they have taken my box, and my wife 
and babes are still slaves." When my box was broken open, I still 
lacked a little of the ^'SSOjOCnecessary to buy my wife. The kind 
friend, who hfid promised to aid me in my contemplated purchase, 
made up the deficiency, and I became the ov\ner of my wife. We 
had three children at this time, and O, how my crushed heart was 
uplifted in its pride and joy, as 1 took them in my arms and thought 
that they were not slaves. 

After I had purchased my wife, we still worked bard, and saved 
our earnings with great care, in order to get some property in hand 
for future use. As I saved my earnings, J got a white man whom 
I thought my friend, (his name I choose to keep for the present,) 
to lay it out for me. In this way I became the owner of the cabin 
in which I lived, and two other small houses, all of which were held 
in the name of this supposed friend. He held them in his own 
name for me. A slave cannot hold property. I will here remark, 
that I was deceived by this man ; and, when I ran away from my 
chains, after sending on my family, I was compelled to sacrifice 
the whole of this property. 1 left it, because I could not get my 
own, in bis hands, and come off entirely destitute. Thank God, 1 
got away, and now J have no tears to shed over the loss of my 
houses. 

During the winter of 1848 — 9, a kind lady came and told me 
that some white men were plotting to enslave my wife and children 
agaio. She advised me to get them off to the free States as quick- 
ly and secretly as possible. A lawyer of Wilmington told me they 
were not safe, unless emancipated by a special act of the Legisla- 
ture. He was a member of the House, and tried to get through the 
House a bill for their emancipation. But there was so much ill 
feeling upon this question, that be could not doit. The Leyislatme 
threw it asWe at once. He then advised me to get them off to the 
free States as my only course to save them. This I determined tp 
do, if possible. I -kept a good look out for a vessel. 1 found one, 
and made a bargain with the captain to take on board for New York, 
a free colored woman and her three children. A k nd friend gave 
me a certificate of their freedom to the captain, and 1 brought my 
wife and children on board at night, paid the captain ^'25,00 for 
heir fare, and staid on the wharf in torturing fear till about sunrise 



28 . EXPERIENCE OF j 

when I saw the vessel under way. It was soon out of sight. When 
I went home, J threw myself on my knees, and poured out my soul 
to God, to carry that ship and its precious cargo safely and swiftly 
on to a free heaven, and to guard and guide me soon to a free home 
with my beloved family. And so I kept on, praying, working, hop- 
ing, pining, for nearly three weeks, whea I received the happy news 
that my dear ones were safe with a true-hearted friend in Brooklyn. 
I had notified him before hand that they were coming ; and now the 
good and glorious news came that they were safe v^'ith Robert H. 
Cousins, where the slaveholder c(m!d»trouble them no more. 1 had 
arranged with Mary when she left, to come on myself as soon as I 
could get the money for my houses and land. She was to write 
to me as though she had gone to New York on a visit, intending to 
come back, and she was to speak of New York as if she did not 
like it at all. I knew my master would be very angry when he 
heard she had gone unbeknown to him, and thought he would de- 
mand to see the letters n>y wife should get friends in New York to 
write to me for her ; and so I made ready to meet and quiet his 
suspicions, while I was plotting my own escape. For more than 
three months I tried to get the money, or part of it, for houses ; but 
was put off and deceived till I found I must come off without a cent 
of the property I had tried so hard to accumulate. I was required 
to call and see my master every day, because he suspected me of a 
d(>sign to run away. He was taken suddenly sick ; and I then started 
for my wife and children. 

THE END.jJ 



OF THE ISLAIND RETREAT. 



INTRODUCTION. 

rWiLD Tom, the hero of our story, was of unmixed African blood, 
and the slave of Gen. Carter. He possessed an excellent character 
for integrity and capability- was a devoted and iaithiul convert to the 
Methodist persuasion; but the sOflering he endured, .through the ty 
ranical practices of slavery, served to harden his heart, and eveulually 
to extinguish the light of religior. in Lis soul. 

Ann, the wife of Thomas, was a pretty, sprightly, good-natured girl, 
whom he loved exceedingly. She was whipped to death by Martin, 
an overseer on Gen. Carter's plantation. 

Archy Moore, was son of Mr. Moore, his master, by a Slave mother. 
He was nearly white in his complexion, but yet a crushed blave.J 



CHAPTER FIRST. 

Since the death of his wife, a remarkiable change had taken place 
in my friend Thomas. He had lost his former air of conteniment 
and jrood nature, and had grown morose and sullen. Instead ol be- 
incr the most willing and industrious laborer in the field, as he used to 
be" he seemed to have imbibed a strong distaste for work, and he 
slighted and neglected his task as much as possible. Had he been 
under any other driver than myself, his idleness and neglect xvould 
have frequently brought him into trouble. But I loved and pitied 
him ; and I screened him all 1 could. 

The wrongs and injuries that "had been inflicted upon him since 
his arrival at^Locsahacbee, seemed to have subverted all the prmci- 
ples upon which he had so long acted. It was a subject on whidi 
he did not seem inclined to converse, and upon which I was unwil- 
ling^ to press him ; but I had abundent reason to suspect that he had 
totally renounced the religion in which he had been so carefully in- 
structed ; and which, for so long a time, had exercised so i)owerful 
an influence over him. He had secretly returned to the practice of 
certain wild rites, which in his early youth, he had learned Irom Ins 
mother who had herself been kidnapped from the coast of Africa, 
and who had been, as he had often told me, zealously devoted to 
her country's superstitions. He would sometimes .talk wildly and 
inceherenily about having seen the spirit of bis departed wife, and 



30 WILD TOM, 

of some promise he had made to the apparition ; and I was led to 
believe that he suffered under occasional fits of partial insanity. 

At all events, he was in most respects, an altered man. He had 
ceased to be the humble and obeient slave contented with his lot, 
and zealously devoted to his master's service. Instead of promoi- 
in" his master's interest, it seemed now to be his study and his 
aim to do as much mischief as possible. There were two or three 
artful, daring, unquiet spirits on the plantation, from whom till 
lately, he had kept aloof, but whose acquaintance he now sought, 
and whose confidence he soon obtained. They found him bold 
and prudent, and what was more, trusty and magnanimous ; and 
ihey soon gave, place to his superiority of intellect, and acknowl- 
ed^red him as their leader. They were joined by some others, 
whose only motives was the desire of plunder, and they extend- 
ed their depredations to every part of the plantation. 

In this new character, Thomas still gave evidence that he 
was no ordinary man. He conducted his enterprises with, singu- 
lar address ; and when all other stratagems by which to save 
his companions from detection proved unavailing, he had still one 
resource that showed the native nobleness of his soul. Such was 
the steady firmness of his mind, and the masculine vigor of his 
const tution, that he was enabled to do what few men could. 
He could brave even the torture of the lash — a torture, I have 
said already, not less teriible than that of the rack itself. When 
every other resource failed him, he was ready to shield his com- 
panions by a voluntary confession ; and to concentrate upon him- 
self a punishment, which he knew that some among them were 
too feeble and faint-hearted to endure. Magnanimity such as this, 
is esteemed even in a freeman the highest pitch of virtue, — how 
then shall we sufficiently admire it in a slave? 

Thank God, tyranny is not omnipotent 1 

Thomdi it crush its victims to the earth; and tread them into 
the dust°; and brutify ihem by every possible invention ; it cannot 
totally extinguish the spirit of manhood within them. Here it 
cdimmers ; and there it secretly burns ; sooner or jater, to burst 
forth in a flame, that will riot be quenched, and cannot be kept 
under ! . 

So long as I was in the confidence of Mr Martin, I was able 
to render Thomas essential service, by informing him of the sus- 
picions, plans, and stratagems of the overseer. It was rot long 
however, before 1 forfeited that confidence ; not because Mr Martin 
entertained any suspicion of my playing him false,— for it was 
very easy to throw dust into the eyes of so stupid a fellow, — but 
because 1 did not come up to his notions of the spirit and the duty 
of a driver. The season was sickly; and as the hands who com- 



OF THE ISLAND RETREAT. 31 

pcsel iny gang were from a more northern climate and not yet 
seufoned to the pestiferous atmosphere of a rice plantation, they 
suffered a Rood deal from sickness, and several of them were 
often unabFe to work. T had explained this to iMr Martin, and 
he seemed to be satisfied with my explanation ; but ridin<j; into the 
field one day, in a particularly bad humor, and I believe, a little 
excited with liquor, he got into a towering rage at finding not half 
my gang in the field, atid more than half the tasks.untouched. 
He demanded the reason. 
I told him that the hands were sick. 

He swore they )iad no business to be sick ; he was tried, he 
said, of this talk about sickness ; he knew very well it was all 
sham ; and he was determined to be imposed upon no longer. 
''If any more complaints are made of sickness, Archy,you have 
nothing to do but whip the scoundrels and set them to work." 

"Wiiat," said T, "if they, are really sick ?" 
" Sick or not sick, I tell you. If they are not sick a whipping is 
no more than they deserve; and if ihcy are, why nothing is so 
likely to do them good as a little bloodletting." 

"In that case," said 1, "you had better appoint another 

driver; I should make but a poor hand at whipping sick people." 

" Hold your tongue, you damned insolent blacKguard. Who 

gave you leave to advise me, or dispute my orders? Hand me 

your whip, you rascal." 

I did so ; and Mr Martin thereupon administered upon me a 
fresh infliction of that same discipline he had bestowed when he 
first put the whip into my hand. So ended my drivership ; and 
thouc^h I now lost my double allowance, and was obliged to turn 
into tlie field again, and perform my task like the other hands, I 
cannot say that I much regretted it. It was a pitiful and sorry 
office, which no one but a scoundrel ever ought to undertake. 

I now united myself more closely to the party oi Thon.as, 
and joined heart and hand in all their enterprises. Our depre- 
dations became at last so considerable, that Mr Martin was 
obliged to establish a regular watch, consisting of his drivers 
and a few of their subordinates, who kept prowling about the 
plantation all night, and made it unsafe to venture into the 
fields. This arrangement was hastened by a circumstance that 
iiappened upon that plantation, about which a very strict inquiry 
was instituted, but which led to no definite result. On one and 
the same night, General Carter's splendid plantation-seat, and 
his expensive rice mills were discovered to be on fire ; and not- 
withstanding all efforts to save them, both were totally consumed. 
Several of the slaves, and Thomas among the rest, were put to 
a sort of torture to make them acknowledge some participation 



32 JwiLD TOM, 

in this hout^rbnrning. Thai cruelty availed nothing. They all 
stoutly cleiiied knowing any thing about it. I was as I have 
said, very mn( h in Thomas's confidenre ; yet he never bpoke 
to me about iliril fire. As he was one O thoj^e men who know 
how to keej) thrir own secrets, I always suspected that he knew 
much more about the matter than he chose to divulge. 

At all evi lit;^, it was evidently a. much more potent feeling, 
tlian the mere love of plunder by whicfi Thomas was actuated. 
Since his wilf'.-^ death, he someiimes drank to excess ; but this 
was seldons. and there never was a man more tenmerate in his 
meats and cirinks, or less fastidious than Thomas generally was. 
He had formerly been with much neatness ; now he neglected 
his dress altooeiher. He did not love society ; he had little in- 
tercourse wiili any body except with me; and it was not always 
that he seemed to wish even for my conipany. Thomas had 
Uttle use f • r his ^hare of the plunder ; and in fact, he generally 
distributed ii iimong his companions. 

When th«- thing was first proposed, he seemed to have little 
inclination to extend our depredaiidiis beyond the limits of 
Looshachee. But as it was no longer safe to continue them 
there; and as hi- companions had rioted too long in plunder to 
be willing to rt-linquish it, Thomas yielded at last to their urgent 
solicitations, and led us, nigl t after night, to the ^ neighboring 
p-lanlations. We soon pushed our proceedings so far, as to at- 
tra ctthe 11 ce of the overseer, whose domains we had invaded. 
At fi St, they supposed that the thieves were to be looked for at 
homer; and numberless were the severities they exercised upon 
those whom shey suspected. But in spile of ail their cruellies, 
the depredations were still continued ; and such was the singu- 
lar art and < unning which Thomas displayed, in varying the 
sbene and manner of our visits, that for a long time, we escaped 
all the trap!> and ambushes that were planned against us. 

We were one night, in a rice field, and had al.rio>t filled our 
bags, when iIk- watchful ear of Thomas detected a sound, as if 
of some one t'autiously approaching. He supposed it mijht be 
the patrol, vvltieh, o1 late, instead of whiling away their tune by 
the help of a fiddle and a botllej of whiskey, had grown more 
active, and actually performed some of tlie duties of a night 
watch. Under this impression, he gave a signal for us to ste^l 
off quietly, 'in a certain order which he had arranged before 
hand. 'I'he field was bordered on one side, by a deep and wide 
river, from which it was protected by a high embankment. We 
had come by water; and our canoe lay in il.e river, under the 
shade of. a clumy^ of bushes and small trees which grew upon the 
c^'^e* One by •», >"-e cautiously stole over the bank, careluily 



OF THE ISLAND RETREAT. 33 

keeping in the «iiade oi the bushes, and all but Thomas were 
already in the boat. WeVere waiting for our leader, wjio as 
usual, was the last man in the retreat, when we heard several 
shouts and cries, which seemed to indicate that he was discover- 
ed, if not taken. The sound of two musket shots fired in rapid 
succession, increased our terror. We hastily shoved the boat 
from the shore ; and pushing her into the current of the flood- 
tide, which was setting up the river, we were carried rapidly and 
silently out of sight of our landing place. The shouts were still 
continued ; but they grew fainter and iainter, and seemed to take 
a direction from the river. We now put out our paddles, and 
plying with all our strength, we pretty soon reached a small 
cove or creek, the place where we kept our boat, and at which 
we were accustomed to embark. We drew the canoe on shore, 
and carefully concealed it among the high grass. Then, with- 
out taking out our rice-bags, and leaving our shoes in the boat, 
we ran towards Loosahachee, which we reached without any 
further adventure. 

I was very anxious about Tnomas, but I had scarcely 
thrown myself upon my bed, before I heard a light tap at the 
door of my cabin, which I know to be his. J sprang up and let 
him in. He was panting for breath and covered with mud. 
Tnomas said, that just as he was going to climb the embank- 
ment, he looked behind him, and saw two men rapidly approach- 
ing. They seemed to observe him just at the same moment, 
and called to him to stop. If he had attempted to reach the 
boat, it would have drawn them that way, and perhaps led to the 
detection of the whole company. The moment they called to 
him, he dropped his rice-bag, and stooping as low as he could, 
he pushed rapidly through the rice in a direction from the river. 
His pursuers raised a loud shout, and fired their muskets at him 
— but without effect. He jumped several cross ditches,' made 
for the high ground, at a distance from the river, and drew off 
the patrol in that direction. Thev pursued him closely ; but as 
he was very strong and active, and 'well acquainted with the 
place, he succeeded in escaping from among* the ditches and 
embankments of the rice-field, gained the high grounds, and 
took a direction towards Loosahachee. But though he had 
distanced his pursuers, they had still kept upon his t^rack ; and 
he expected that they would follow him up, and would shortK 
be arriving. 

While Thomas was telling his adventures, he had stripped off 
his wet clothes, and washed off the mud with which he was 
covered. I furnished him with a dry suit, which he took with 
him to his own cabin which was close by mine. I hastened 

3 



UILD TOM 



round to the cabins of our companions and told fliern what 
visitors to expect. The barking of all the plantation dogs pretty 
soon informed us that the patrol was coming. They had rous- 
ed up the overseer, and with torches in their hands, they entered 
and searched every cabin in the quarter. But we were prepar- 
ed for their visit ; we were roused with diflicnlty out of a deep 
sleep ; and seemed to be very much astonished at ihis^unseason- 
able disturbance. 

The search proved to be a very useless one; but as the patrol 
were certain that they had traced the fugitive lo Loosahachee, 
tiie overseer of the plantation upon which we had been depre- 
dating, came over the next morning to search out and punish 
the culprit. He was accompanied by several other men, who 
it seems were freeholders of the district, selected with such 
forms, or rather such neglect of all form, as the laws of Caro- 
lina prescribe in such cases. Five Carolina freeholders, select- 
ed at hap-hazard, constitute such a court a? in most other coun- 
tries, would hardly be trusted with the final adjudication of any 
matter above -the value of forty shillings at the amount. 

A table was set out before the door of the overseer's house ; 
some glasses and a bottle ol whiskey were placed upon it ; and 
4he court proceeded to business. /We were all brought up and 
examined, one after the other. • The only witness weie the pat- 
rol who had pursued Thomas ; and they were ordered by the 
court to pick out the culprits. That was rather a diiiicult mat- 
ter. There were between sixty and seventy men of us ; the 
night had been cloudy and without a moon ; and the patrol 
had only caught some hasty and uncertain glimpses of the per- 
son whom they had followed. The court seemed rather vexed 
at their hesitation. Yet perhaps it was not very unreasonable : 
since they were quite unable to agree together as to what sort 
of a man it was. One thought him short ; the othfr was cer- 
tain that he was quite tall. The first, pronounced him a stout, 
well-set fellow ; the other had taken him to be very slender. 

By this time, the first bottle of whiskey was emptied, and a 
second was put upon the table. The court now told the wit- 
nesses that it vvould not do; they did not come up to the mark 
at all ; and if they went on at that rate, the fellow would 
escape altogether. Just at this moment, thii overseer of the 
plantation which had been plundered, rode up ; and as soon as 
he had dismounted, he stepped forward to the relief of the wit- 
nesses. He said, that while the court was organizing, he had 
taken the opportunity, to ride over and examine the ricefield, 
in which the rogue had been started up. It was much tram-, 
pled in places, and there were a great many foot-prints ; but they 



OK THE ISLAND RETREAT. 35 

were all just alike,- and seemed to have been made by the same 
pse/soii. {Te tctok a little stick from his pocket, on Vv'hicli, he 
said, he had carefully marked their exact length and breadth. 
Now this was a trick for detecting people, which Thomas un- 
derstood very well ; and he had taken good care to be prepared 
for it. Our whole company were provided with shoes of the 
largest size we could get, and all exactly of the sa me pattern: 
single person, and ho a fellow with a very large foot. 

ThiS speech of the overseer seemed to revive the droopincr 
hopes of the. judges; and they made us all sit down uptin ihe 
ground and have our feet measured. There was a man on the 
plantation named Billy, a harmless, stupid, fellow, wholly un- 
connected with us'; but unluckily for him, the only one of all 
the slaves whose foot corresponded at all with the measure. 
The length of this poor fellow's' foot was fatal to him. The 
judges shouted with one voice, and in the style of condemna- 
tion to 'be expected fv(MTi such a court, that "they would be 
damned if he was not the thief." It was in vain that the poor 
fellow denied the charge and pleaded for mercy. His terror, 
confusion, and surprise, only served to confirm the opinion of 
his'guilt ; p.nd the more he denied, and the louder he pleaded, 
the more positively his judges were determined agamst him. 
Without further ceremony they pronounced him guilty, and 
sentenced him to be hung ! ' 

, The sentence was; no sooner pronounced than preparations 
were made for its^ execution. An empty Ixirrel was brought' 
out, and' placed under a tree that &tood before the door. 'J'he 
poor fellow was mounted upon it; the halter vvas put about his 
neck, and fastened to a hmb over his head. The judges had al- 
ready become so drunk as to have lost aU sense of judicia de- 
corum. One of thetn kicked away the barrel, and the unhappy 
victim of Carolina justice, dropped struggling into eternity. 

The execution over, the slaves were sent into the field ; while 
jMr. Martin, with the judges and witnesses, and several others 
w-hom the fame of the trial had dra'wn to Loosahachee, com- 
menced a regular drunken debauch, which they kepi up all that 
day, and the night following. 



•^Q WILD TOM 



CHAPTER SECOND. 

Tlie authority of masters over their slaves is in general a 
continual reign of terror. A base and dastard fear is the sole 
principal of human nature to which the slave-holder appeals. 
When it was determined to hang the poor fellow, whose fate 
1 have described in the last chapter, his judges could not know, 
nor do 1 suppose, they much cared, whether he were innocent 
or guilty. Their great object was to terrify the survivors ; 
and by an example of what they would denominate whole- 
some and necessary severity, to deter from any further tres- 
passes upon the neighboring plantations. In this they suc- 
ceeded ; for though Thomas endeavored to keep up spirits, 
we were thoroughly scared, and felt no little inclination to 
second his boldness, which seemed to grow more determined, 
the more obstacles it encountered. 

One of our confederates in particular, was so alarmed at 
* the fate of poor Billy, that he seemed to have lost all self-con- 
trol ; and we were in qonstant fear lest he should betray us. — 
When the first paroxysm of his terror was at its height, the 
evening after he had witnessed the execution, I believe he would 
gladly have confessed the whole, if he could have found a 
white man sober enough to listen to him. After a while, he 
grew more calm ; but in the course of the day he had dropped 
some hints which were carefully treasured up by one of the 
drivers. He reported them, as I discovered, to the overseer; 
but Mr. Martin had not yet recovered from the effects of the 
frolic , and he was too drunk and stupid to understand a word 
that the driver said to him. 

We had begun to get the better of our fears, when a new 
incident happened, which determined us to seek our salety in 
flight. Some persons, in passing along the river bank, had dis- 
covered'our canoe, which in the hurry of our retreat, we had 
taken too little care to conceal. It contained not only oiu' bags 
full of rice, — for we had not yet recovered courage enough to 
go after them, — but our shoes also, all exactly of tlie same size, 
and corresponding with the measure which had been produced 
upon the trial. Here was ample proof that quite a nun:ber had 
been engaged in the sche.ne of depredation; and as one of the 



OF THE ISLAND RtifREAT, 37 

company had been raced to Loosachachee, it would be reason- 
able to look for the others upon the same plantation. Luckily, 
I obtained an early intimation of this discovery, by means of 
one of the over-seer's house-servants, with whom 1 had the 
policy to keep up a pretty intimate connection. A man had 
arrived at the overseer's house, his horse dripping with loam, 
— and with an appearance of great haste and impatience, he 
had asked to see the overseer. The moment he came in, the 
stranger requesed to speak with him alone ; and Mr. Martin 
took his guest into another room and locked the door. ^ The 
girl, who was my spy and informant, under an appearance of 
the greatest simplicity, was artful and intelligent ; and she was 
prompted to overhear this secret conversation, as much by her 
own curiosity, as by the suspicion that it might possibly be some- 
thing, in which I would take an interest. She contrived to 
conceal herself in a closet, which was separated from the room 
in which the overseer and his visitor were conversing, only by 
a thin partition; and having overheard his story, the substance 
of which I have already mentioned, — and learned besides, that 
the court would hold a new session at Loosahachee, the day 
following, — she hastened to inform me of what she had heard. 
She knew nothing in particular, of our affairs } but she had 
reason to believe that this piece of news would not be en- 
tirely uninteresting to me. 

I informed Thomas of what she had told me. We agreed at 
once, that our best chance of safety was in flight ; and we im- 
mediately communicated our intention, and the cause of it, to 
the rest of our confederates, "^riiey were anxious to accompany 
us ; and we all resolved to be off tliat very night. 

As soon as evening came on, we stole away from the planta- 
tion and gained the woods in company. As we anticipated 
that a very diligent search would be made for us, we tliough- 
it best to separate. Thomas and myself resolved to keep to- 
gether ; the others scattered and took various directions. As 
long as the darkness lasted, we tiavelled on as rapidly as we 
aould. When the morning began to appear, we plunged into 
b thick swampy piece of woods, and, having broken down some 
branches and young trees, we made as dry a bed as we were 
oule, and lay down to sleep. We were much fatigued with 
our long and rapid journey, and slept soundly. It was past 
noon when we waked. Our appetites were sharp, but we had 
no provisions. Just as we were beginning to consider what 
course it would be best to pursue, we heard the distant baying 
of a hound. Thomas listened for a moment, and then ex- 



38 A'lLD TOM, 

clairtied that he knew that cry. It was a famous dog, a cross 
of the blood-hound, which Mr. Martin had long had in train- 
ing, and upon whose performances in tracking out runaway^ 
he very much prided himself The place where we were, was 
a thick swamp, which it was difficult to move, and not easy 
to stand. To cross it would be impossible ; and we resolved 
to get into the edge «f it. where the ground was harder, and 
the undergrowth thinner, and to continue our fight. We did 
so ; but the hound gained rapidly uphn us, and his baying 
sounded louder and louder. Thomas drew a stout sharp knife 
which he carried in his pocK'et. We were iioxV just at the bor- 
der where the dry ground came down upon the smamp, and 
looking behind us, across the level and open woods, we could 
see the hound coming on with his nose to the ground, and ut- 
tering- at intervals a deep and savage cry. Farther behind, biiC 
still in full view, v/e saw a man on horseback, Avhom we took 
to ha Mr. Martin himself. 

The dog was evidently upon onr track and following it 
to the place where we had first plunged inte the swamp, he 
disappeared from our view. But we conld still hear his clam- 
or, which grew louder and almost constant; and we soon per- 
ceived by the rustling and cracking of the underwood that he 
wae close upon us. At this momeiit we faced about, and stood 
at bay ; — Thomas in front, with his knife in hand, and I just 
behind, with a sharp and heavy lightwood knot the best, in- 
deed the only weapon, of which I could avail myself. Pres- 
ently the dog emerged from the swamp. The moment he sav.'- 
us, he redoubled his cry, and dashed forward foaming at Thom- 
as's throat, but only succeeded in seizing his left arm, which 
Thomas raised as a child against the dog's attack. At the 
same instant he dealt a stroke with his knife, which penetrated 
to the hilt, and dog and man came struggling to the ground. — 
How the contest would have ended had Thomas been alone, 
is very doubtful ; for though the hound soon received several 
wounds, they only seemed to increase his ferocity, and he stil- 
struggled to get at the throat of his antagonist. My. lightl 
wood knot. now did g(tod service. Two or three heavy blows 
upon the dog's head laid him senseless and sprawling on the 
ground. 

While we had been awaiting the dog's attack, and daring 
the contest, \ve had scarcely thought of his master; but look- 
ing up, after it was all over, we discovered that Mr. Mariiti 
was already very near us. When the dog took to the swam[>, 
his master had followed along upon the edge, and cume siid- 



OF THE ISLAND RETREAT. 39 

denly upon us before we had expected him. He pointed his 
gun and called upon us to surrender. Tlioinas no sooner saw 
the overseer, than he seemed to lose all his self coirtrol, and 
grasping his knife, he rushed upon him. Mr. Martm fired , — 
but the buck-shot rattled harmlessly among the trees, and as he 
was attempting to wheel his horse, Thomas dashed upon him, 
seized him by the arm and dragged him to the ground. The 
horse ran frightened through the woods ; and it was in vain 
that I attempted to stop.him. We looked round in expectation 
of seeing some others of the huntsmen coming up. None were 
in sight ; and wo seized tb.e opportunity to retreat and to carry 
our prisoner into the covert of the swamp. • 

We learned from him that by the time the court and their 
attendants arrived at Loosahachee, our flight had been discov- 
ered, and that it was immediately resolved to raise the' neigh- 
borhood, and to commence a general search for the runaways. 
All the horses, dogs and men that could be come at, were put 
in requisition. They were divided into parties, and immedi- 
ately commenced beating through the woo-i!s and swamps in 
the neighborhood. 

A party of five or six -men, with Mr Martin and his blood- 
hound, had traced three of ourcompanions into a thick swamp,' 
just on the bank* of a river. The pursuers dismounted, and 
with their guns in their hands, they tollowed the dog into the 
thicket. Our poor fellows was so overcome with fatigue, that 
they slept- until the very moment that the hound sprang in upon 
them. He seized one of them by the throat, and held him to 
the ground. The others ran ; and as they ran, the pursuers 
fired. One of the fugitives fell dead, horribly mangled and- 
cut to pieces with buck-shot; the other still contumed his 
flight. As soon as the dog could be compelled to quit his Ijold 
of the man he had seized, — which was not without difficulty 
and delay, — he was put upon the track of the surviving fugi- 
tive. He followed it to the river, where he stood at fault. — 
The man had probably plunged in, and swam to the other side; 
but as the dog could not be made to take the water, and as 
the swamp on the opposite bank was reputed to be very soft 
and dangerous, no further pursuit was made; the chase in that 
direction was given up, and the poor fellow was suffered- to es- 
cape for the present. 

The pursuers now separated. Two of them undertook to 
carry back to Loosahachee the captive they had taken, and the 
other three, with Mr. Martin and his hound, were to continue 
the hunt in search of £he rest of us. They learned from their 



40 . WILD TOM, 

captive the place at which we had parted company, and the 
direction which the several parties had taken. After beating 
about for some time, the hound struck upon our trail, and open- 
ed in full cry"; but the horses of Mr. Martin's companions 
Avere so broken down, that when he began to spur on, to keep 
np with the hound, he soon left them behind. Mr. Martin 
ended his story by advising us to go in and surrender our- 
selves ; giving ns his word and honor for it as a gentleman 
and an overseer, that if we would offer. him no further vio- 
lence or injury he would protect ns from punishment, and re- 
ward u^ most handsomely. 

The sun was now setting. The short twilight which fol- 
lows a Carolina sunset would soon be succeeded by the darkness 
of a cloudy and moonless night; and we felt but little appre- 
hension of being immediately^ troubled by our pursuers. I 
looked at Thomas as if to inquire what we had better do. — 
He drew me aside, — having first, examined the fastenings of 
our prisoner, whom we had bound fo a tree, by some cords 
foiuul in his own pocket, and which were doubtless intended 
for a very different purpose. 

Thomas paused for a moment, as if to collect his thoughts ; 
then pointing to Mr. Martin, "Archy," he said, "that man dies 
to-night." 

There was a wild en(^rgy, and at the same time, a steady 
coolness, in the tone in which he spoke. It started me ; at first 
I iv.ade no answer; and as meanwhile I looked Tiiomas in the 
face, I saw there an expression of stern exultation, and a fixed- 
ness of purpose not to be shaken. His eyes flashed fire, as he 
repeated, — but in a low and quiet tone that contrasted strange- 
ly with the matter of his speech, — '-I tell yon, Archy, that man 
dies to-night. She commands it ; I have promised it-; and 
nowthe time is come." v 

"Who commands it ?" I hastily inquired. 

"Do you ask who ? Archy, tliat man was the murderer of 
my wife." . " 

Though Thomas and I had lived in great intUTiacy, that was 
almost the first time, since the death of his wife, tliat he had 
mentioned her to me in such plain term^ He had, it is true, 
now and fhen made some distant allusions to iier; and I recol- 
lectpd that on several occasions before, he had dropped some 
strange and incoherent hints about an intercourse which he still 
kept np with her. 

The mention of his wife, brought tears into his eyes ; — but 
^ivith his hand, he wiped them hastily away', and soon recover- 



OF THF ISLAND RETREAT. 41 

ing his former air of calm and steady determination, he again- 
repeated, in the same low but resolute tone, "Archy, I tell you 
that man dies to-night." 

When I called to mind all the circumstances that had attend- 
ed the death of Thomas's wife, I could not but acknowledge 
that Mr. Martin had bet-n her murderer. 1 had sympathized 
with Tnomas then, and I sympathized with him now. The 
murderer was in his power; he believed himself called upon to 
execute justice upon him ; and I could not but acknowledge 
that his death would be an act of righteous retribution. 

Still, I felt a sort of instinctive horror at the idea of shed- 
ning blood ; and perhaps too, there still crept about my heart 
some remains of that slavish fear, and servile timidity, which 
the bolder spirit of Thomas had wholly shaken off. 1 acknowl- 
edged that the life of the overseer was justly forfeited ; — but at 
the same time, I reminded Thomas that Mr. Martin had prom- 
ised, if we would carry him home in safety, to procure our par- 
don and protect us from punishment. 

A scornful smile played about the lip of my comrade while I 
was speaking. "Yes, Archy," he answered, "pardon and pro- 
tection ? — and a hundred lashes, and a hanging the next day, 
perhaps. No ! boy, I want no such pardon ; I want no pardon 
sach as they will give. . I have been a slave too long already. 
I am now free ; and >fhen they take me they are welcomed to 
take my life. Besides, we cannot trust him; — if we wished it, 
we cannot trust him. You know we cannot. They do not 
think themselves obliged to keep any promises they make us. 
They willl promise anything to get us in their power ; and then 
their promises aie worthless as rotten straw. My promises are 
not hke theirs ; and have I not told you that I have promised it? 
Yes, I have sworn it ; and I now say, once for all, that man 
must die to-night." 

There was a strength and a determination, in his tone and 
manner, which overpowered me. I could resist it no longer, 
and I bade him do his pleasure. He loaded the gun, which 
he had taken from Mr. Martin, and which he had held in his 
hand all. the time we had. been talking. This done we returned 
t6 the overseer, who was sitting at the foot of the tree to 
which we had' bound him. He looked up anxiously at us as 
we approach-d, and inquired if we had determined to go in ? 
"We have determined," answered Thomas. "We allow you 
half an hour to prepare for death. Make the most of it. You 
have many sins to reperit of, and the time is short." 
Jt is impossible to describe the look of mingled terror, amaze- 



42 



WILD TOM, 



ment and credulity, with whiqh thfe overseer heard these words. 
One moment, with a voice of authority, he bade us untie him : 
the next, he forced a laugh, and aifected to treat what Thomas 
said, as a mere jest ; then yielding to his fears, he wept like a 
child, and cried and begged for mercy. 

'•Have you shown it?" answered Thomas. "Did you show 
it to my poor wife ? You murdered her, and for her life you 
must answer v/ith your own." 

Mr. Martin called God to witness, that he was not guilty of 
this charge He had punished Thomas's w'lie he confessed ; 
but he did only what his duty as an overseer demanded; and it 
was impossible he said, that the Cew cuts he gave her, could 
have caused her death. 

"The few cuts !" cried Thomas. "Thank God, Mr. Martin, 
that we do not torture you as you tortured her ! Speak no 
more, or you wiH but aggravate your sulTerings. Confess 
your crimes ! Say your prayers ! Do not spend your last 
moments in adding falsehood to murder ! 

The overseer cowered beneath this energetic reproof He 
covered his face with his hands, lient down his head, and pass- 
ed a few moments in a silence v/hich was only interrupted by 
an inarticulate sobbing. Perhaps, he was trying to prepare 
himself to die. But life wa« to sweet to "be surrendered with- 
out another effort to save it. He saw that it was useless to 
appeal to Thomas; but rousing himself once more, he turned 
to me. He begged me to remember the confidence, he had 
once placed in me, and the favors, which as he said, he had 
shown me. He promised to purchase us both, to give us our 
liberty, any thing, every thing, if we would only spare his life ! 

His tears and piteous lamentations moved me. My head 
grew dizzy,- and I.felt such a faintness and heart-sinking, that, 
I was obliged to svipport myself against q. tree. Thomas stood 
by, with his arms folded and resting on the gun. He made no 
answer to the reiterated prayers and promises of the over- 
seer. Indeed he did not appear to notice them. His eyes 
•were fixed, and he seemed lost in, thought. 

After a considerable inttrv-al, during which the .unhappy 
over eer continued to repeat liis prayers and lamentations, 
Thomas roused himself He stepped back a few paces, and 
raised the gun, "The half hour is out," he said ; — "Mr. Mar- 
tin are you ready ?" 

"No . oh no ! Spare me, oh spare me ! -one half hour 
longer — I have niuch — " 



OF TlfE ISLAND RTRKAT. 43 



He did not live to finish the sentence. The gnn Hashed 
the ball penetrated his brain, and he fell dead withont 
struggle. 



CHAPTER THIRD. 

We scraped a shallow grave,^ in which we placed the body 
of the overseer. We dragged the dead hound to the same 
spot and laid him with his master. They were fit companions, 
We now resumed our flight.— not as some may perhaps sup- 
pose with the frightened and conscience-stricken haste of mur- 
derers, but with that lofty feeling of manhood vmdicated arid 
tyranny visited with a just retribution, which ammat(;d the 
soul of the Israeltish hero whilst he fled for refuge into the 
country of the Midanites : and which burned in the bosoms ot 
Wallace and Tell, as they pursued their midnight flight among 
the friendly cliff's and fretdom-breathing summits of their na- 
tive mountains. i , , o 

There were no mountains to receive and shelter us. in- 
still we fled through the swamps and barrens of Carolina, re- 
solved to put, as soon as possible, some good miles between 
us and the neighborhood of Loosahachee. It was more than 
twenty-four hours since we had tasted food ; yet sufih was the 
excitement of our minds that we did not faint, and were hardly 
sensible of weaknesss or fatigue. 

We kept a northwesterly direction, steering our course by 
the stars, and we must have made a good distance ; for we did 
not once stop to rest, but pushed forward at a very rapid pace 
all night. Our way lay through the open '-piney woods;'; 
throush which we could travel almost as fast as on a road. 
Somedmes a swamp or the appearance of a, plantation, woula 
compel us to deviate from our track, but as soon as we could, 
we resumed our original direction. 

The darkness of the night, which for the last hour or two 
that It lasted, had been increased by a foggy mist, v/as jus- 
beginning to yield to the first indistinct grey dawn of the morn- 
ins. We were passing along p. little depression in the le-vel ot 
pine barrens, now dry, but in the wet season, probably the bed 
of a temporary stream, looking for a place to conceal ourselves, 
* —when we suddenly came upon a man, lying, as it seemed, 
asleep in the midst of a clump of bushes, with ins' head resting 



44 WILD TOM, 

on a bag of corn. We recognized him at once. He was a 
slave belonging to a plantation next adjoining Loosahochee, 
with whom e ad had some slight acquaintance, but who, as 
we were informed, had been a runaway, for some two or three 
months past, Thomas siiook him by the shoulder, and he wak- 
ened in a terrible fright, we told him not to be alarmed, for we 
were runaways like himself, and ver/ much in need of his as- 
sistance, being half dead with hunger, and, in a country with 
which we were totally unacquainted. At first the man ap- 
peared very reserved and suspicious. He feared it seemed,, 
less we might be decoys, sent out on°purpose to entrap him. At 
last however, we succeeded in dissipating his doubts ; and no 
no sooner was he satisfied with the account we gave of our- 
selves, than he bade us follow him, and we should presently 
have food. 

With his. bag of corn upon his shoulder he pursued the shal- 
low ravine in which we had found him, for a mile or more, till 
at length it widened into what it seemed a large swamp, or 
'rather a pond grown up with trees. We now left the raviiie, 
and followed along on the edge of the pond for some distance, 
when presently our guide began wading in the water, and called 
to us to follow^ him. We plunged in ; but before going fa"r, he 
laid dowii his bag of corn upon a fallen tree, and going back, 
he carefully effaced the murks which our footsteps had made 
upon the muddy edge of the pond. He now led us forward 
through mud and water up to our waists, for near half a mile. 
The gigantic trees among Avhich we were wading, sprung up 
like columns, fiom the surface of the water, with round, straight, 
whitish-colored, branchless trunks, their leafy tops forming a 
thick canopy over head. There was scarcely any undergrowth, 
except a species of enormous vines, which ran twining like 
great cables about the bodies of the trees, and reaching to the 
very tops, helped with their foliage to thicken the canopy 
above us. So effectually was the light excluded, and so close 
did the trunks of the trees stand together, that one could see. 
but a very little way in this Avatery forest. 

The water began to grow deeper, and the wood more gloomy, 
and we were wondering whither our guide was leading us, 
when presently we came to a little island which rose a few 
feet from the surface of the water, so regular and mound-like 
that it had quite the appearance of an artificial structure. Per- 
haps it was the work of the ancient inhabitants of the country, 
and the site of one of their forts or fastnesses. It was about 
an acre in extent, and was covered with a thick growth of trees, 



OF THE ISLAND RETREAT. 



45 



quite different however, from those of ihe lake by wliich it 
was surrounded, aud much inferior in size and miijesty. Its 
edges were, bordered by low shrubs and bushes, whose abund- ^ 
ant foliage gave the islet the appearance of a mass of green. — 
Our guide pointed out to us a little opening in the bushes, 
throu" h which we ascended ; and after having gained the dry 
laiid^ he led us through the thicket along a narrow and wind- 
ing path till presently we came to a rude cabin built of bark 
and branches. He now gave a peculiar whistle, which was 
immediately answered ; and two or three men presently made 
then- -appearance. 

They seemed a good deal surprised at seeing us, and me es- 
pecially, vvhom apparently they look for a freeman. But our 
guide assured them that we were friends and fellow-sufferers, 
and led the way into the cabin. Our new hosts received us 
kindly ; and having heard how long we had been without 
food, before askiiig us any further questions, they hastened to 
satisfy our hunger. They produced beef and hominy hi abund- 
ance, on which we feasted to our hearts' content. 

We were then called upon to give an account of ourselves. 
Accordingly we made a. relation of our adventures, — omiting 
however, any mention of the fate of the overseer; and as our 
»uide, who knew us could confirm a part of our story, our ac- 
count was pronounced satisfactory, and we were presently ad- 
mitted to the privelege of joining their fraternity. 

There were six of them, beside ours(dves ; all brave fellows, 
who, weary of daily task-work and the tyranny of overseers, 
had taken to the woods, and had succeeded in regaining a sav- 
age and stealthy freedom, v/liich, with all its hardships and 
dangers, was a thousand tunes to be preferred to the forced la- 
bor and wretched servitude from which they had escaped. Our 
iruide was the only one we had ever seen until now. The 
leader of the band had fled from his master's plantation in the 
'neighborhood, with a single compaiiion, some two or three 
years before. They did not then know of the existence of 
this retreat ; but being sharply pursued, they had attempted to 
cross the pond or swamp, by which it was surrounded, — a 
thing, I suppose which had never been tried before. In this 
attempt they were fortunate enough to light upon the islet, 
which being unknown to any one else, had ever since- served 
them as a secure retreat. 'I'liey soon picked up a recruit cr two; 
and had afterwards been joined by their companions. 

Our guide, it seems, had been to a neighboring plantation to 
trade lor corn ; — a traffic which our friends carried on with the 



46 



M'^L.D TOM 



slaves of several of the nearest plautations. After the biisi- 
ness was conclnded, the men with wliom he had been dealhig, 
had produced a bottle of whiskey of whicii *onr guide liad 
drank so freely, that he had not gone far en his way 
before his legs faifed him. He sunk, down in tlie place whare 
we had. found him, and fell fast asleep. 

Drinking whiskey away from home, according to the pr^. 
dent laws of this swamp-encircled commonwealth, was ahigu 
misdemeanor, punishable with thirty-nine lashes, which tv'ere 
forthwith inflicted upon our guide with a good deal of empha- 
sis. He took it in good part though, as being the execufion 
of a law to which he had himself assented and which he knew 
was enacted as much for his own benefit, as for the benefit of 
-those who had just now carried it into, execution. 

The life upon which we now entered had at least, tlie charm 
of novelty. In the day time, we eat, slept, told stories and 
recounted our escapes ; or employed ourselves in dressing 
skins, making clothes, and curing provisions. But the night 
was our season of adventure and enterprise. As the autmnn 
was coming on, we made frequent visits to the neighboring 
corn fields and potato patches, which we lelt no scruples what- 
ever in laying under severe' contribution. ' This however u-as 
olny for a month or two.' Our regular and certain supply was 
in the herds of half wild cattle,' which wander through the 
"piney woods" and feed upon the coarse grass which they fur- 
nish. We killed as many of these cattle as. needed, and their 
flesh cut into long strips we dried in the sun. Thus cured, it 
is^a palatable food; and we not only kept a stock on hand for 
our own consumption, but it furnished the principal article of 
a constant but cautious traffic, which, as I have already men- 
tioned, we carried on with the slaves of several neighboring 
plantations. 

Ths wild life of the woods has its privations and its sulTer- 
ings :but has too, its chafms and its pleasures; and in its 
very worst aspect, it is a thousand and ten thousand times to 
be preferred to that miscalled civilization which degrades the 
noble savage into a cringing and broken-spirited slave ; — a civil- 
ization, which purchases the indolence and luxury of a single 
master, witli the sighs and tears, the forced and unwilling la- 
bor; the degredation, misery and d jspair of a hundred of his 
fel ow men ! Yes — there is more of true manhood ih the' bold 
bosom of a single outlaw than in a whole nation of cowardly 
yrants and crouching slaves ! 



*% 

^t^^ 



OF THE ISLAND RETREAT. 4? 



CHAPTER FOURTH. 

By the end of winter, the herds of cattle which were accus- 
tomed to frequent our neighborhood, were a good deal thinned; 
and the pasturage had now become so bare and withered|kthat 
what remained of them were little better than walking skele- 
tons, and in fact, scarcely worth the trouble of killing. 

Moreover, the overseer of the neighboring plantations, were 
•begijaning to be very well aware that they were exposed to 
some pretty regular and diligent depredators. We learned 
from the slaves with whom we traflicked, that there was a 
good deal of talk about the rapid disappearance of the cattle ; 
and (hat preparations were making for a grand hunt in search 
of tlie plunderers. 

With the double object of disappointing these preparations, 
and of getting among some fresh herds of cattle, it was re- 
solved that five of us should make an excursion to a consider- 
able distance, while the other two remained at home and kept 
close. 

One of our number undertook to lead us into the neighbor- 
hood of a plantation beyond tlie Santee, on which h*a had 
been raised. He knew all the country about it perfect y well. 
There were several good hiding places, he said, in which we 
could conceal ourselves in the day lime ; and the extensive 
woods and wastes furnished a good range, and abundance of 
cattle. 

We set off under his guidance, and kept on for several 
days, or nights rather, in a northwardly direction. On the 
fifth or sixth- evening of our journey, we started soon after 
sun-set, and having travelled till a little past midnight, through 
a country of abrupt and barren sand ' -Us, our guide fold us 
that we were now in the neighborhood , ;■> which he intend- 
ed to carry us. But as the moon had gi e down, and it v/as 
cloudy and quite dark, he was rather uncertain as to the pre- 
cise place we were at ; and we should do best, he said, to 
camp where we were, till day-light, when he would lead us to 
some better place of concealment. 

This advice \vas very acceptable ; — for by this time, we 
were way-worn, tired, and sleepy. We kindled a fire, cooked 
the last of the provisions we had brought with us, and having 
appointed one of our number to keep watch, the rest of us lay 
down and were soon fast asleep. 



48 WILD To:yi, 

I, at least, was sleeping soundly, and dreaming of poor 
Gassy and our infant child, when my dream was interrnpted, 
and I was roused from my slumbers, by what seemed a dis- 
charge of fire-arms and a galloping of horses. I sprang upon 
my feet, hardly knowing whether I was awake. At the same 
moment, my eye fell upon Thomas, who had been sleeping 
l)*side me, and I perceived that his clothes were all stained' 
with bloo 1. He had already gained his feet ; and without 
stopping to hear or see any thing further, we sprung together 
into the nearest tliicket, and fled for some time, we scarcely 
knew where or why. At last, Thomas cried out that he could 
go no fmiher. Tiie bleeding of his wounds had weakened 
him much, and they were now growing stiff and painful. 
'J'he morning was just begining to dawn. We sat down up- 
on the ground, and endeavored to bind up his wounds the best 
we were able. A ball or buck-shot had passed through the 
fleshy part of his left arm, between the shoulder and elbow. 
Another shot had struck him in the side, — but as far as we 
could judge, had glanced on one of his ribs, and so passed off 
without doing any mortal injury. These wounds had bled 
profusely, and were now very painful. We bound them up as 
well as we could ; and looking round we found a little stream 
of water with which to wash away the blood, and quench ovr 
' hirst. 

Thus recruited and refreshed, we began to consider which 
way we should turn, and what we were to do. We did not 
dare to go back to the camp where we had slept; indeed we 
were very doubtful whether we were able to do so; for the 
morning had been dark, and we had fled with heedless haste, 
taking very little note of our direction. Our island retreat 
was at the distance of some seven or eight days journey ; and 
as we had travelled in the night, and not always in precisely 
the same du'ectior it would be no vei^y easy matter to find 
our way back ag ,n. Howevi r^ Thomas prided himself upon 
his woodmanship, and thongh he had not observed the course 
of journey quite so closely as he could have wished, he still 
thought that he might succeed in finding the way back. 

But his wounds were too recent, and he felt too weak, to 
think of starting ofl" immediately. Besidea it was already 
broad day-liglit ; and we had the best of reasons for travelling 
only by night. So we sought out a thicket in which we con- 
cecSted ourselves till night-fall. 

As the evening came on, Thomas declared that he felt much 
better and stron-^er : and we resolved to set out at one, one 



OF THE ISLAND RETREAT. ^^ 



our return. la the first place, however, we determined to maKe 
a attempt to find the camp of the proceeding night, in hopes 
?hat some of our companions might have escaped as well as 
ourselves, and that by some good luck, we might chance to 

fall in with them. , , /• ^ 

After wande'ring about for some time,.we at length found 
the camp Two dead bodies, stitt^ and bloody, lay by the ex- 
n.uishing embers of the fire. They seemed to have been 
shoT dead as they slept, and scarcely to have moved a limb.- 
The bushes about were stained and spattered with blood ; and 
bv the moonlight we traced' the bloody flight of oiie of our 
luckless companions, for a considerable distance. This mus 
have been our sentinel, who had probably dropped asleep, and 
thus exposed us to be surprised. u i, i 

Perhaps he might be lurking somewhere in the buslies, 
wounded arid helpless. This thought emboldened us. We 
.houted and called aloud, but our voices echoed through the 
woods, and died away unanswered. We returned again to the 
camp, and gazed once more upon the distorted faces of oiw 
dead companions. We could noi bear to leave them unburied. 
1 hastily scraped a shallow irench, aud there we placed them. 
We dropped a tear upon their grave, and sad-, dismayed, de- 
jected, we set out upon our long, weary and uncertain journey. 



CHAPTER FIFTH. 

We travelled slowly all night, and soon after day-light lay 
down to sleep, but av^'-oke just before sunset and determined to 
risk starting, as we were very hungry, and looped v/e mighr 
obtain something to eat, but had not gone far before we sud- 
denly came upori three travellers on horseback, who eyed us 
sharply and demanded who we were. As I did not answer 
them to their satisfaction, and my statements being confused, 
they sprang from their horses and declared we were runaways, 
at the same time seizing me. and attempting to hold Thomas, 
who eluded their grasp and attacked them with his staff. Al- 
ter a violent struggle they bound us both and carried us to a 
miserable tavern about half a mile distant, where we put up 

for the night. 

4 



50 WILD TOM, 

It appeared in the course of the conversation between the 
landlady and her guests, that the murderous kind of attack to 
which our companions, had fallen Victims, but which' had been 
intended for another party of runaways, is an operation occa- 
• sionally practised in Lower Carolina, when a party of slave- 
hunters falls in with a gang of fugitive slaves too large to be 
easily arrested. 

The dispersion of the attacking party, and each one shoot- 
ing and returning by himself, is only the effect of an ancient 
and traditionary prejudice. By the law of Carolina, the kill- 
ing a slave is regarded as murder; and ' though probably, this 
law was never enforced, and would doubtless be treated by a 
jury of moderu slave-holders, as an old-fashioned and fanatical 
absurdity, there still linger, in the breasts of the pe6j)le, some 
remains of horror at the idea of deliberate blood'shed, and a sort 
of superstitious apprehension of the possible ei:^forcement of 
this antiquated law. To blindfold their own consciences, and 
10 avoid the possibility of a judicial investigation, each man of 
an attacking party takes care to see none of the others wheii 
they fire ; and no one goes to the place to ascertain how many 
have been killed or disabled. The poor wretches who are not 
so fortunate as to be shot dead upon the spot, are left to the 
lingering torments of thirst, fever, starvation and festering 
wounds ; and . when at length they die, their skeletons lie 
bleaching in the* Carolina sun, proud proofs of slave-holding 
civilization and humanity. 

While our captors were afsupper, the little girl, the land- 
lady's daughter, came to look at us, as we lay in the passage. 
She was a pretty child, and her soft bine eyes filled with learo 
as she looked upon us. I asked her for water. She ran to get 
it for us ; and inquired if we did not want something to eat. I 
told her that we were half dead with hunger ; and she no soon- 
er heard it, than she hastened away, and soon returned with a 
large cake of bread. 

Our arms were bound so tight that we wej:e utterly helpless, 
and the little girl broke the bread, and fed us with her own 
hand. 

Is not this one instance enough to prove that nature never 
intended man to be a tyrant ? Avarice, a blind lust of domina- 
tion, 'the false but specious suggestions of ignorance and passion 
combine to make him so ; and pity at length, is banished from 
his soul. It then seeks refuge in the woman's heart ; and 
when the prog^-ess of- oppression drives it even thence, as sad 



OF THE ISLAND RETREAT. 

nnd l.esitating; it prepares to wing ils J^y to heaven, still it 
i-,rtQ Tiifl lingers in the bosom of the child . 

Bviining closely to.th* conversation of the travellers,- 
fcr bV i^tnr« the Ljady had prodnced a J'-S.f -h,skey 
a"d they had become very co,nm..nicat>ve,-we learned t at 
^i werl within a few miles of the town of Camden and on .he 
;rea nor,hern road leading from that town into N-'h Caro^™. 
Oiir cantors it seemed, were from the iipper-eountiy. 1 hey 
had m p ssed luough.Caraden, but had struck into th>s road 
ve'y tlear the place where they met us. They were travellmg 
into Vircinia to purchase slaves. 

Afu?; discnssin'g the question at considerable ^-ngtMhey con- 
cluded to delay they journey for a day or two and to t^^^ "^ 
to Camden, mhopes to find our owner and obtam a reward or 
apprehending us or if nobody should claim us immediately 
they could lodge us 5n jail, advertise us m the newspapers, and 
sive further attention to the business upon their re urn. 

By this time, the whiskey jug was emptied, and the travel- 
lers made preparations for sleeping. There ^f^'^ b"^ t^. 
rooms in the house. The landlady and her daughter had one 
and some beds were prepared for the guests, m the other. |\^ e 
were carried into their room ; and after again lamenung TTiat 
the landlady could not furnish them with chains they carelul- 
■v examined and retightened .the ropes with which we were 
bound, and then und^-essed and threw themselves upon then- 
beds. They were probably fatigued with their .lourney, and 
the whiskey increased their drowsy inclination ;.so that betore 
long, they all gave evident tokens of bemg in a sound slum- 
ber. , 

I envied them that happiness ; for the tightness of my bonus, 
and the uneasy position in which I vas obliged to he, prevent- 
ed me from sleeping. The mconbLains shone in at the win- 
dow, and made every object distinctly visible. Thomas and 
myself were lamenting in whispers, our wretched condition, 
and consulting hopelessly together, when we saw the door ot 
• the room cautiously and silently opening. In a moment, the 
landlady's little daughter made her appepa-ance. She came to- 
wards ns with noiseless steps, and one hand raised, as if mo- 
tioning to us to be silent. In the other, she,held a knife ; and 
stooping down she hastily cut the cords by which we were 
bound. • , 

We did not date to speak ; but our hearts beat hard, and 
am sure our looks expressed the gratitude we felt. We gain- 



52 gwiLD TOM, 

ed our feet with as little noise as possible, and were stealing 
towards the door, when a new thought struck Thomas. He 
laid his hand upon my shoulder to draw my attention, and 
then began to pick up the coat, shoes, %nd other clothes of one 
of our captors: At once I understood his intention, and imita- 
ted his example. The little girl seemed astonished and dis- 
pleased at this proceeding, and motioned to us to desist. But 
without seeming to understand her gestm-es, we gained the 
door with the clothes in our hands ; and passing out of the 
passage, we walked slowly and cautiously for some distance, 
taking good heed, lest the sound of our footsteps might give 
an alarm. In the mean time, the little girl patted the house 
dog on the head, 'and kept him quiet. • When we had 
gained a sufficient distance, we started upon a run, which we 
did not give over till we were fairly out of breath. 

As soon as we had recovered ourselves a little, we stripped 
off our ragged dresses, and hid them in the bushes. Luckily 
the clothes which v.'e had brought off in our flight, fitted us 
very tolerably, and gave us a much more respectable, and less 
suspicious appearance. We now went on foi' two or three 
miles, till we came to a road that crossed the one upon which 
we were travelling, and ran off towards the south. 

In all this time, Thomas had said nothing ; nor did he scarce- 
ly seem to notice my remarks, or to hear the questions, which, 
from time to time, I put to him. When we came to the cross- 
road, he suddenly stopped, and took me by the arm; I sup-- 
posed that he was going to consult with me, as to the course 
which we should take ; and great was my surpi'is© to hear him 
say, " Archy, here I leave you." 



. ^^ CAAPTER SIX 

'• iV6?«:. ■ A fter the separation of Jf/W Tom aud Archy, the latter pursued his- 
way to the free states where he arrived in safety. >'But finding himself not secure 
in his fieedom, M-entto Europe and passed several years In the British service 
where he distinguished himself and received promotion. Eventually he became 
wealthy by n division of prize money, and having been absent more than twcti- 
*.y years, he felt an insatiable desire "to visit again the scenes of his lormer suffer^ 
irigs and exploits, a ccoriUngl.V, having attained letters of credit from several dis- 
tinguished persons, he set cut on his intended tour. We will allow him to relate 
his story in his own words : 

As 1 began to approach the neighborhood of Loosahatchie^ 
I perceived, at a distance, a group of 14 or 15 men on horse- 



OF THE ISLAND RETREAT. 



53 



back, followed by a pack of blood-hcr.nds. On the back of 
'one of the horses, strappec, was the lifeless body of a man, 
covered with blood which still oozed from a wound he had re- 
ceived in the breast. Side by side with the corpse rode a black 
man, who was tied, wounded and bleeding. His haughty and 
dossed aspect of defialnce seemed to contrast strangely with 
another prisoner who seemed very much c'cjected. On enquiry 
I was told (hat the negro lashed to the horse with the corpse 
had killed him, and that he had been an overseer near by. He 
told me that a gang of runaway negroes, headed by a desperate 
fellow called " Wild Tom," had infested the neighborhood for 
a long time, and that they had started m pursuit of them, when 
cue of the dogs scented him in the marsh and lie was taken. He 
he denied all knowledga of Tom, and said he was a runaway 
and implored them to give him food as he was almost starved. 

These protestations, however, did not satisfy, and to make 
him confess, he was tied up and whipped till he fainted ; but 
while begging for mercy, he still insisted on the truth of his 
story, and that he had nothing further to tell. 

Tliis experiment Iiaving failed, he was placed on the stump 
of a fallen tree, and a rope being put round his neck and fas- 
tened to a branch above, he was theatened v.'ith instant hang- 
ing if he did not confess. Still he continued dogged as ever. 
when oTie of the company pushed him off the stump, and al- 
lowed him to swing till he grew black in the face. He was 
then placed back upon the stump, the rope loosened, and him- 
self supported by the two or three slaves v/lio accompanied the 
party. At length beginning to recover himself, whether out 
of terror of death, or the confusion of his ideas and the des- 
truction of his self-control by the pressure of blood upon the 
brain, he began to confess freely enough that he had just come 
from the swamp island, and that Wild Tom was there ; but he 
denied all knowledge of any other runaways, or that Wild 
Tom had any body with him. 

To make all sure, eight or ten of the company were sent to 
patrol on horseback round the edges of the swamp, together 
with all the dogs but one, while five or six of the strongest 
anH most resolute proposed to penetrate the interior, and to 
storm the islands retreat. The prisoner, with the rope still 
about his neck, the other end made fast to the waist of one of 
the stoutest of the company, was required to serve as guide ; 
and though he protested that he knew nothing in parti(fular of 
the approaches to the island, he was threatened with instant 
aeath m case he did not conduct them safely and expeditiously 



54. WILD TOM 



across. The fellow, however, whetlier through ignorance. or 
design, led them into very deep water, in some. places fairly un 
to iheir necks, through which they were obliged to wade, 
holding their rifles and powder horns over their heads: and in 
spite of every effort to keep him quiet,^ as the party drew near 
the island, he would insist on crying out, as if giving direc- 
tions as to the passage, but, as .was strongly suspected, v.'ith 
the real design of alarming his confederate. And, indeed, bo- 
fore the party could make good their footing on the island, lie 
had already taken the alarm, and had plunged into the water 
on the other side. He had gained a considerable distance be- 
fore he was seen, and as he doged behind the great trees of 
the swamp, several rifle shots fired at him failed to take effect. 
in plunged the others, in fresh pursuit, while the fugitive en- 
grossed by this danger behind, made the best of his way 
tlirough the mud and water, till he gained the firm land on the 
other side of the swamp, where he encountered a new danger ; 
being seen by one of the scouts patrolling along the edge. As 
he bounded through the piny woods like a deer, a rifle shot 
grazed his side, and thouglf it did not bring him down, yet it 
ni.aterialiy checked the swiftness of his flight. Four or five 
horsemen were soon upon his track. Snapdragon, the over- 
seer, leading in the chase, soon came up with the flying ne- 
gro ; and after vainly calling to him to yield, and firing his 
pistols with only rtial effect, sprang from his horse, and at- 
tempted to seize him. Snapdragon was a powerful man, but 
he had now found his match. Wild Tom, if indeed it were 
really he, exhausted and wounded as he was, caught his essail- 
ant in his arms, and as ihey rolled upon the ground, the negroe's 
knife was not long in finding its way to the overseer's heart. 
Bnt already the dogs and the other jjursuers Avere upon liirn, 
and before he could disengage himself, he was made a prisoner, 
and securely bound. It was not long before the whole party 
was assembled, when some of the more violent proposed to re- 
venge the dead overseer by putting the new prisoner to death 
on the spot. But the pleasure and glory of making a parade 
and exhibition of their prize, and tlie necessity, too. in order 
to secure llie promised reward, to identify him as general Car- 
ter's runaway, had stayed this summary procedure ; and-it had 
been resolvied forthwith to hasten to the village, Avhich served 
as seat^)f justice for -the county, to commit the prisoners to 
jSil. 

We were already in the near vicinity of the country seat, 



OF THE ISLAND RETRKAT. 55 

which proved to be a more considerable village 'than usual, 
and from which, as if by some premonition of our coming, 
issued to meet us, a miscellaneous mnltitude, of all colors and 
conditions. It was only by the greatest efforts that I mastered 
my emotions, as, making my way among the cro^y■d of blacks 
and whites tliat gathered around him, I approached the one 
supposed to be Wild Tom. He seemed tp feel that I had piiy 
for him, and asked me for a drink of water, which I obtained, 
by promising a negro boy fifty cents; but just as ho was put- 
ting it to his lips, a slave-qealer dashed it to the ground, and 
commenced berating me for attempting to give comfort to a 
negro murderer. .Tnst at this moment we heard a loud shout 
at the tavern, and the whole crowd left me with Tom, when I 
gave him the water he so much needed. After he had drank 
I told him that I was A.rchy. His face lighted up with a gleam 
of joyous surprise, but as suddenly passed away, and his fea- 
tures again resumed that sullen look of defiance, which seemed, 
to&ay to his captors, '• Do your worst ; I am ready I " 

I/eitat that same moment a hand rudely laid on my shoul- 
der, while a voice, which I recognised as that of the same man 
wh.o had dashed the calabash of water from Thomas's grasp, ex- 
«L.laimed, with a volley of oaths, " What the devil are you do- 
ing iiere i'n close confab with this murderer? I tell you, stran- 
ger, you don't leave here without giving an account of your- 
self !" 

At the same time a number of men, rushing up to Thomas, 
began to unfasten the chains from the prison bars, and to con- 
duct him towards the door of the tavern. 

'. The. flight had been between the more drunken and infuriat-^ 
ed portion of the company, who, enraged at the sight of the 
dead overseer, wished to try and execute Tfiomas at once, and 
those Avho had wished to await the arrival of general Carter, 
for whom a messenger had been sent, and to delay final pro- . 
ceedings till the prisoner had first been identified as the veri- 
table Wild Tom, and general Carter's property, lest otherwise 
there mightbe some difficulty in recovering the promised reward 
The more violent and drunken party had, however, prevail- 
ed. A court of three freeholders was now organized on the 
spot, and Thomas, again surrounded by a rabble of blacks and 
whites, ^vas now brought before this august tribunal. I was, 
myself at the same time taken into custody as a suspected per- 
son, with an intimation that my case should be attended to as 
soon^as that of the negro as disposed of. • 



56 



WrLD TOM, 



"Vniom do you belong to}'^ Such was the first i; '^-'ion 
which the honorable court addressed to the prisoner. 

"I bLdoiig," answered Thomas, with much solemn.:.'. o 
the God who made Us all !" ' • ^ 

The court, after hearmg a witness or two, pronouncca hii.: 
guilty of the murder of the overseer, after which they passe..^ 
sentence of death. A pile of wood was lighted, and the victin: 
of slave-holding vengeance was placed in the midst of it. v.'hi!". 
he looked upon his perscutors with a smile of contemptuor.: 
defiance and his .spirit as ushered into the presence of r.. 
aven^^ina God ! 



.THE END. 






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